Memories II
by ola
Summary: A young woman starts a new life, with no memory of her past. What ensues is a story about her and the people who claim to know who she is, and who want to "help" her. Sequel to "Memories"
1. part 1

~Memories II~

by Ola

~*~*~

A/N~ This is the sequel to "Memories," but can stand on its own. It might be even more interesting and surprising to begin by this one, although you'll miss some references and details. Yes, I had said that I wouldn't write or post this until I went back and edited "Memories." But I never seem to go back to rewrite stories. I've already too little time to write _new ones! =) I hope you don't mind too much, and that you enjoy this fic. I hope it makes sense too. Ah, one more thing. I am writing another story at the same time, and __this one isn't written at all yet, beyond this chapter, (and I'm truthfully starting to forget what my plans had been for it, that's also one of the reasons I decided to go for it) so the posts will be few and far between. I _will_ try to make them longish though (well, it depends on your definition of "long" *winks*). That about sums it all up. So if you haven't yet jumped to the story, enjoy!_

~*~*~

Part 1~

_Fire…Pain…Fire…_

_                                                …and the smell of flowers…_

She clawed her way out of the dream –of the nightmare- and out of the heavy blankets, heaving, and soaked with sweat. _Breathe. Breathe girl._ The little room seemed unnaturally stuffy and warm, even with the cool night breeze flowing in from the wide open window. _It always does after those nightmares._ Because it wasn't the first time. 

The girl made no noise as she rose and padded to the window, sighing as the wind cooled off her body. _No, it's not the first. But when will it be the last?  A cold lump rose in her throat  as she starred into the darkness. _As dark as my past.__ In neither case can I see further than my nose. And I don't know whether I should be grateful or not._ She sighed again and tried to think of nothing. Worrying about it wouldn't help, except to give her stomach an awful knot._

~*~*~

"Mica dear?"

"Yes?" the girl looked up from scrubbing the floor, and blew an offending hair out of her face.

"I need you to go to the village. It's Saturday today." The girl nodded, marveling yet again at how she lad lost track of time. But on the other hand, life on the little farm was a string of daily routines. Milk the cow, feed the chickens, water the garden, clean the house…and help Mrs. Zogriva out. In return, she was given a room, as much food as she could eat, and clothes when her old ones fell apart or were past mending. _But no money.__ And thus no way out of this place. And yet, I should consider myself lucky, especially remembering the state I came in. Naturally rather thin, Mica had been no more than a bag of ones that day. __How long ago was that? Nine? Ten months? Maybe eleven? Her black hair cropped as short as a boy's, her body showing more black and blue than pink, her clothes torn and bloodied…yes, she had been more than lucky that old Mrs. Zogriva had taken her in with no more questions than "what is your name and what do you want?" When Mica had later asked her why the woman hadn't slammed the door in her nose, she had smiled her crooked smile and answered "I am poor and old, dear. I'm not afraid of what life has left to throw at me." But under that blunt talk, there always glinted a sad, motherly look in her eyes. And as weeks succeeded days, Mica came to think of the old lady as –if not her mother- then a kindly old aunt. When she though  about it, she thanked whatever god was looking upon her for Mrs. Zogiva, for she had asked work and food at other doors, and had been denied with everything from a polite "No, go away" to a boot to her derriere and dogs biting her heels as she scrambled for her life. Mrs. Zogriva's scrawny little house had been the last one on this road, and she had thought about not even asking there. She had been too tired and too close to tears. But hunger and cold drove her to desperation. And now, she was more than glad that it had, because there was no saying what would have happened to her over wise.  _

~*~*~

"Is that all Miss?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Give my regards to Ms. Zogriva."

"I will. Good bye sir."

"Good bye little Miss."

_Little Miss?__ Well, I suppose I am. She laughed and took the road "home." _Home.___ Will I ever see home again?...Do I want to? As ever, her thoughts differed, and she was left in the middle, torn about by her inaction. Search for her family, or stay well out of their way? But she had gone over that more times than she cared to remember and it had brought her no other conclusions than she already knew: she remembered nothing prior to those few months she had spent with Mrs. Zogriva. And no amount of staring at the few possessions she owned had triggered any reaction except for headaches. The girl's face clouded for a moment, but it was too warm, too sunny, and altogether too pleasant outside to think about such things. She had a new life now. She could start everything anew. How many people could boast of that, eh? __But what did you have to leave behind for that new life? A little voice whispered in her mind. And no amount of sun could dispel the disquiet she felt in her heart._

She entered the kitchen and deposited the bags of goods she had bought in the village, the put everything back in its place, only then noticing the silence. Yes, it was always rather quiet here, but never _this_ quiet. She looked around and called the old lady. Perhaps she was asleep? But she was not in the habit of taking a nap in the middle of the afternoon… Mica called again and went upstairs to the woman's bedroom, a little cubicle big enough for a bed and a large wooden chest. She didn't even have to make it to the top floor. She gasped and took a step back, seeing the old lady sprawled face down on the top stair step. She regained her calm and ran to the prone figure. It didn't take long for the girl to assess that the old woman was irrevocably dead. She rocked back on her heels and sat down hard, shocked, while her mind swam in little circles for a while. What the heck was she supposed to do now? _As soon as I go to town for a "funeral guy," the militia, or government, or whoever takes care of that, will grab everything, faster than I can say my name, without a thought as to what will happen to me. Staying here is out of the question. The militia will kick me out. All I can do is take what I need and high tail it out of here as soon as possible._

_But it would be too much like ribbing the dead…It would__ be the same!__                     But what else am I to do?_

She steeled herself and dragged the woman to her bead. For such a massive bone structure, Mrs. Zogriva weighed no more than a feather. That done, Mica closed the door, washed her hands, and sat down to plan her future, trying hard not to let her emotions get the upper hand.

~*~*~

She looked critically at what she had laid on the kitchen table. Very little of that was her own. Only the short dagger, a canteen of water, and her old boots. Add to that two work shirts and skirts given to her by the old woman, half a loaf of bred, a piece of cheese, grapes, and a pair of pants she had found in a chest tucked out of the way –belonging to the lady's husband, or perhaps her son?- she wore those now, with the cuffs rolled up and a string keeping them at her waist. Her old clothes were long gone, not even good enough to serve as rags. The final addition was a leather coin purse. That, perhaps, had been the hardest for the girl to appropriate, not because she couldn't find it, but because it was thieving. _But she's dead. She won't need it anymore…but what if she has a family? Children? I am steeling what is theirs…I worked for that money!!! Pfff, the militia will take all of it anyway, and no on who deserves it will ever see any of it. In the end, she had taken almost all of it because of that last thought, had packed it all in a bag, and left with one backward glance and a silent prayer for Mrs. Zogrieva's soul, while tears stung her eyes, threatening to spill at any moment._

~*~*~

_And once again, I'm on the road, alone. But the difference is, I'm clean, fed, and sane. Which I couldn't say I was, back then. Delirious with pain and exposure, half-mad with shock, and with no idea of what was going on, who I was, or what had happened. She remembered the snow, and that's what had saved her. The cold had broken her fever and made her aware of the hunger that gnawed at her belly. Mica snorted at the memory. _Yes, and with hunger came that excruciating pain, which I would bet hadn't anything to do with lack of food an everything to do with an inner wound…or poison? That's a possibility…_ And that had also been the moment she had realized she neither knew her name, nor her age, her birthplace…nothing that was "her." And even worse, she didn't know whether it had been an accident, or if someone had deliberately tried to hurt her. _But why?___ And how? Only more questions, and never any answers. The girl shivered, and resolutely marched away from the town, toward the next one –for there would be no work to be found here.-_

_Another life begins…a life I can choose…just like I chose my new name…_

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A/N~ So? What do you think? (posting the third entry in  less than a week! Jeez, something must be wrong with me…)

Does the story make sense? (To those who have read "Memories" and to those who haven't?) Drop me a word please!! =)


	2. part 2

~Memories II~

by Ola

~*~*~

A/N~ I have a few sentences written out after the end of this chapter, but except that, I need to write more. Meanwhile, I have to go to work for the whole day, and then go pick my sister up from _her_ job, and write new chapters for another story. Which leaves me precious few time for myself (especially to read, which I love doing –yep, yep, misty books of course). I hope I won't be too long in posting the next chapters, but it _may take some time. I hope you won't get too angry, but don't worry. I haven't forgotten about this story, and will keep posting until it's done!!_

Thank you so much for the reviews. I'm glad you like it (and "Memories I" too). Some of you are damn too quick! Perhaps I should give you even less details to keep you in the dark a little longer!! *grins evilly* 

~*~*~

Part 2~

Mica reached the next town an hour before dusk. It was very similar to where she had lived with Mrs. Zogriva. The same little houses lined a dusty road. A white washed church stood in the place of honor, in the middle of the village…right across from the inn. A strange place to build a church –or an inn, depending on which was here first-. Mica wondered whether this situation made any trouble. _Find work first. As good as that intention was, it proved fruitless as door after door closed with a "no" that rang with dead finality. Sometime during that hour, the thought as to how she would have been welcomed here in her "original" state crossed her mind. _

But night finally fell, and the girl took a room at the inn, counting how many more times she could use such a luxury. The fair wasn't extraordinary; simple everyday food, but warm and wholesome, everything one such as herself could expect. However, the common room  was unnaturally quiet, although it wasn't _nearly_ empty. The customers talked in hushed whispers, or didn't talk at all. _Why? Because of the temple nearby? Because they are too tired? No…with enough beer and ale flowing around, even the most overworked would find strength to talk over their neighbor's heads. So what is it?_ She didn't know, and wasn't about to ask. She went to bed with a heavy heart, her thoughts torn between her future and her past, her work and the late Mrs. Zogriva. The quiet downstairs didn't help her sleep at all. It was unnerving. It wasn't _normal. What she did know though, was that she would leave at first light. Nothing was keeping her here; she would have to find her luck at the next village over._

~*~*~

_The next _village_! This is no village! No town! It's a city. A big_ city!__

A city that frightened her as much as excited her for its opportunities. Before entering the gates, she sat on a rock by the road side, out of the way of the many other travelers, and thought. On one hand, she desperately needed work, having enough money left for only a few more nights of inns. She didn't feel safe sleeping alone under the stars. There always was that fear that someone was watching her out of the darkness, that he was looking, waiting for a moment of carelessness or inattention, to pounce on her like a cat on a terrified mouse. And she believed quite strongly that whatever that feeling was, if it came true, she _would_ freeze like a mouse, petrified by fear. There really was no reason that she knew of, to feel that way. It was only the irrational dread of the unknown. …But it wouldn't go away, and even now, she eyed the passersby, her heart skipping beats when a particularly miserly man glanced at her from atop an old donkey. _Stop it! Stop it right now!  You can't go on living like that, jumping at shadows, like a warrior straight out of the border sector near Karse!_

_Oh? And how do you know that? And how, pray tell, will you keep yourself alive, if not by being doubly careful?_ She didn't have an answer. So she pushed that thought away and concentrated on the present. _Yes, as in: city inns are bound to be more expensive, but on the other hand, there's always some work to be found in a city._ Yes, she would have to look for it, but it was _there_. If she decided to skirt around the outer walls and try her luck in the next town, she may not find anything in the next five villages, especially ones that close to such a big city. Thus, in light of the work, her best bet was to stay here. But…a city was full of people…and people knew things…and knowledge about _her might be dangerous. She still didn't know who she was and how she had lost her memory. Perhaps she had never been here, but maybe someone from here had been where __she was, and would recognize her. _

_Your hair is longer, you wear different types of clothes –farmer's clothes. You last ones weren't.- Keep your head down while in the streets and cross your fingers, hoping nothing bad comes out of this…and there are always the city guards if your run into trouble…Unless they are part of the problem too. Oh bugger…_ A chilling thought, but one she didn't dare throw away. Anyone may be an enemy here, just as well as a long lost family member or friend. With a shake of her head and a final sigh, she strode back onto the road and followed the string of travelers heading toward the city gates.

~*~*~

She couldn't help it. Every time someone glanced at her, her stomach cramped as she expected to be recognized. Not even half a candlemark later, the pain became stronger than the worse moon-cycle cram she had ever experiences and she had to sit down. She couldn't keep the pain from showing on her face and people were staring at her. __

_Breath in, breath out.__ Relax. It won't help to worry._ But she couldn't _not worry! Here she was, alone, in a place she didn't know, surrounded by so many smells and sounds and people that her head reeled, and among people that may wish her harm. She was definitely worried. She brought her knees to her chest and laid her head on them, vainly trying to shut the rest of the world out for a little while. It wasn't really working._

"Hey lass," said a gruff voice. She almost leaped out of her skin when someone prodded her shoulder. "Wow, calm!" the speaker was an old beggar. His mouth was a black hole of stinking breath and rattling gasps that whistled through the gaps in his teeth. "Just tellin' ya it's me corner he' ya'll have ta fin' ya se'f 'nuther 'un."

"S…Sorry…" she managed before scrambling out into the busy street and quickly losing her interlocutor. Only later did she wonder _how he would have pried her out of there had she insisted on staying, but then thought better of it. He hadn't lived on the streets this long without learning quite a few tricks. __Be happy he warned you instead of simply going for your throat._

For a moment, Mica let herself be pushed along the flow of the crowd. It's not as if she had a destination in mind. At least not until she saw the large square of the marker place open up before her as she rounded yet another corner in the maze of streets and alleys. Once there, using knees and elbows, to the large disgruntlement of the nearby people, she made her way to a little lace relatively out of the way and planed her life, trying very hard to keep all of her other emotions at bay.

~*~*~


	3. part 3

~Memories II~

by Ola

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A/N~ More of the same. =) I have a few moments I can write at work, (in between loading the huge chem Dishwasher whenever I happen to be assigned glassware cleaning =) so I got a little more of the story written down! Hope you're still hanging on. It'll get more interesting in a little while (had to get the introduction and setting out of the way). Please review. And thanks so much to everyone who did! I really appreciate it! =)

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Part 3~

Mica was starting to loose what little hope she had. Was it only bad luck? Or was she going at it the wrong way? She had washed her face and hands free of a day's worth of travel dust in a fountain and changed into more presentable clothes, which although somewhat wrinkled, where cleaner than her previous ones. Wearing a long brown skirt and a lighter brown shirt with long sleeves, she had gone straight into the throng of merchants and simply began asking for work. But no one seemed interested in a young helper of any sort –not even to run errands-. They paid young boys to do it only when they needed something done, and didn't have anyone on a regular wage. 

_Perhaps I should have started on a side street? Or at an inn? They always need serving girls at inns…yes, but I don't want to be there. Not if I can help it. But…how do I know that? Have I been one before? That's possible. How else did I get the money to survive then? I had to have had some kind of job; I was old enough to live by myself at that point. Maybe that's…_Her thoughts were interrupted by a rough voice speaking right above her head.

"Heard ya asking for work. Is that right?" the man standing in front of her was a good three hands taller, and almost ten times as wide as her. She reflexively shrank back onto herself as she tried to make out the expression on his face. She wondered for a moment if he had meant to come at her from this side, so as to have the sun shining right behind his head, and hiding his face in shadows, or if it was pure coincidence. Or an overzealous imagination?

"Y…yes sir, I do. I…I mean I am." _Damn this stuttering! Why does it have to come up now!_

"Good. Come with me."

_What?_ The man strode off without looking whether she was following, while the poor girl battle with her thoughts and emotions. _What if…what if he wants to…to hurt me? He could squeeze the breath out of me with one hand around my neck…I won't follow into little alleys…I…_ Her mind gave her plenty of horrific details as to what, exactly, the burly man could do to her. _Snap out of it! He may have work. There are plenty of people here. He won't try anything with so many witnesses and you don't have to follow him into somewhere you don't like!_ She ran to catch up to him, once again using elbows to jostle the other customers out of her way. She didn't have time to be polite.

While she walked –or rather ran- she watched the rest of the street with interest, eyes wide to take in everything. Children were running in between horses' legs without fear, older generations walked at a more sedate pace, although still quite fast. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry to be somewhere and walked with a sense of purpose Mica did not share. And _everyone was loud. _

_I don't think I've ever been to such a big city, or I would surely have remembered the noise; or at least it wouldn't have surprised me so damn much._ As she walked, Mica half berated herself for going along, and half wondered _where they were going, for they were nearing the other edge of the marketplace, and the man did not seem in the least inclined to stop any time soon._ But the streets that converge to the square a still very big, and very full of people. And he isn't even looking if I'm still behind him, nevermind doing anything to me…Hopefully it will stay that way.__

"We're here." The man stopped so abruptly that she almost crashed into him; there wasn't that much space to maneuver around here. 'Here'  was the piece of street right in front of a shabby little store that –as far as she could see at first glance- sold lace.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Come in!" she did, before she could change her mind and run away.

The inside of the store was rather dark compared to the bright sun outside, and her insides knotted up again until she regained her sigh. But she _heard_ all right though, and _some_one was either deaf or very angry, by the amount of noise they were producing. The dark shape of the 'someone' resolved into an aged lady wearing black from the sole of her shoes to her bonnet. It starkly contrasted with the rest of her –her pinched face and wrinkled fingers- which was white. Not pale, not slightly flushed with annoyance. White. Almost blue. And she was arguing about the price of a large piece of lace. Black lace. _It figures. Maybe she's a widow and doesn't have much money left, now that her husband died and brings no more wages in. but she's dressed far too well to be really poor. On the…_

"Tania, this is the girl."

Only then did Mica take notice of the salesperson behind the counter. It was a slightly younger woman, dressed in a plain, brown dress, but so full of lace sewed onto the fabric that it was barely visible. The woman's brown eyes shifted from her customer to Mica, and the girl tried not to shrink under that piercing gaze. 'Tania' beckoned her closer.

"Show me your hands girl." As Mica stayed rooted into place with surprise, Tania added with exasperation "I don't bite girl. Now, show me your hands. I won't hire you if they're grubby and coarse. It would ruin the merchandise."

_Oh…_she couldn't think of anything intelligent to say, so she extended both hands, palms down. The woman looked at her fingernails, then flipped her hands…and stared at the long scar on one of the palms. It was a neat white line, from the index finger down to the wrist. She didn't touch it, although she did rub the girl's calluses, checking for snags. Then she took a long look at her face, and all of that in a silence that was becoming dreadfully awkward. Finally, her rough voice broke the stillness.

"It'll have to do. Listen here girl. This is the job. You go into the marketplace with a bag of lace, and you sell it and advertise what store it's from. It's that simple. In return, you get a place to sleep and food."

"And two coppers a day."

"One."

"One and a half."

"One and twenty five."

"Deal. When do I start?"

"Well, right now! Wash your hands in that basin in the corner then come with me."

~*~*~

Mica walked around the marketplace, shouting the goodness of her wares, while the straps that held the case in front of her dug into her shoulders. She was still somewhat flabbergasted by what had just happened. Had some god finally taken pity on her? It certainly seemed so. She had a job, and some money she could save for later. Not much, but still more than she remembered having before._ Hah! That's because before, I had _none_! And even before that, I can't remember. Now, let's pray that this good fortune holds for just a little longer, until I settle down and find out who I can trust and who I can't. it shouldn't take that long, now, should it? _

Her attention drifted to a young girl eyeing the lace with a longing eye. Mica felt a stab of jealousy at the way the girl looked. _Pretty. Very__ pretty.__ I bet those wide blue eyes of hers attract quite an amount of suitors. And the dress…ah… she sighed wistfully longing to be able to afford a light autumn dress of dark green silk. _Or amber…snap out of it! You don't want attention. Your warm woolen skirt will do fine for the upcoming winter. And you can dream during the night. _Not__ when you're supposed to be working! She scolded herself, although her eyes still followed the retreating back of the girl, and she wondered, with a stab of surprising pain, if the girl was coming home to meet her loving parents and chat with her siblings by the fire._

But as soon as the sea of customers swallowed the girl from sight, Mica's thoughts went back to their roaming. _All right.__ I have a job, a place to sleep, food, and a little money. Well, at least I will, this evening…although I can't say I much like being this exposed and screaming 'lace lace, pretty lace to buy. Reasonable prices!' at the top of my lungs…but isn't there a saying about the best hiding place being in plain sight? Huh, perhaps it doesn't really apply to me… she shivered a little, and not only from the chill of the air as the sun slowly sank behind a tall building and illuminated the roofs of smaller ones in a vermillion red._

_But perhaps I come from very far from here. Perhaps nobody here even knows the name of where I'm from. And perhaps pigs will fly. You _walked_ here damn it. It's not bloody likely that you covered much ground. Hah, maybe I had a horse and rose for a while! And maybe you're a princess too! It's no use speculating. It's not helping at all. And that brings me to the next question. What am I to do next? What am I to d with my life? I sure as hell don't want to be a lace seller until I drop of old age. Okay, one thing at a time. First, get settled down. Make a few friends. Get to know the city. Then, and only then, begin to search for some clues. Few customers were left on the streets, and many merchants were already packing up. __Well, I guess I should stop too. With the job and_ the wandering thoughts!__

That evening, Mica came back to the shop with some trepidation. What if they wouldn't give her the money they had promised? What if they only gave her a scrap of burned bread no bigger than her palm to eat? She hadn't actually signed any contract that she could bring with her to the guards as proof! And that brought her to another strange thing about her and her past. Where had she learned to read and write? And why? She didn't really think she was a scholar, and even less a noble. But perhaps a merchant's daughter? Or had she lived near a temple or a church where she was schooled by the local priest? Unless she found out who she was, she would never know why. Why this, and so many other 'why's. But the shopkeeper paid her and gave her enough food, and she put the question out of her mind for the moment.

~*~*~


	4. part 4

~Memories II~

by Ola

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A/N~ Someone new coming aboard!! Yay! Thank you so much for reviewing and please continue on doing exactly that, so I know what you think! =) I hope you like this part.

~*~*~

Part 4~

She was once again awake at dawn –not strange to anyone having lived for the better part of last year on a farm- and out on the street when most people were still blissfully asleep. But that meant she had a first good look at the city without being bothered by wayward glances. There were already some people going about; shopkeepers setting their wares or apprentices and hired hands like her helping out. There was the smell of rain and colder days to come on the air, even here, in the city, among so many other smells, and Mica, not for the first time, thanked whoever took care of those things that she had found work and a roof over her head before winter had truly set in. 

There weren't many customers until about mid morning, then the marketplace began to fill, and it quickly became a sea of bobbing heads. There wasn't even a momentary lull at noontime. Obviously, there were enough food and drink vendors for the customers to eat on the run, literally. And some parts of the market smelled so good as to tempt _everyone._

Mica envied those people who could go on a stroll and buy whatever they wished. _She_ couldn't even get more than a quick look at all those goods, seeing as she was burdened with merchandise of her own. But what she _could_ do was watch people. And she found it fascinating. After a while, she could distinguish between the wealthy and those who only pretended to have money. She recognized a few familiar faces; servants shopping for their masters, students for their scholars…

And when she got bored of people, she watched their shoes. She hadn't known there could be so many different types. Riding boots, soft soled boots, walking boots, black boots, brown boots, leather boots…sometimes the shoes didn't seem to match with their owner at all. And when she couldn't stand to look at another pair of the thousands of feet she saw in a day, she imagined stories in between selling colorful lace to ladies of all ages, and some gentlemen as well –those had been so embarrassed and uncomfortable; probably sent by their wives or mothers, or making presents for their sweethearts-. The ugly girl wearing a beautiful blue dress of fine weave was really a mouse in human form, transformed by a mage; the poor, threadbare boy distributing pamphlets was in fact a prince in disguise, come to woo his love, unable to do so in public because of her lowly status; the old man with a face as wrinkled as a prune was a famous astronomer searching the market stalls for bits and pieces he could use in his next experiment; the ragtag boy with the fierce brown eyes was…why was he moving his hand like that, and staring at…-she turned her head, and in a break in the crowd, spotted another boy, as poor and fierce looking as the first- him? The two were obviously communicating. A secret code meant to raise kingdoms and topple kings from their thrones? 

Mica's imagination ran wild, as she daydreamed about secret agencies. Suddenly, there were spies everywhere, all young rascals, rounding on a noble lord, then the man's guards jumped from behind nearby stalls and drew their gleaming swords, pointing the weapons at the spy's throats, and the all danced around with the steps of death and the city guards standing at the marketplace's corners didn't run to give a helping hand for _they were engaged in combat as well, with other spies and assassins that swarmed from the side streets and….and… and the first boy looked at _her_, and moved his left hand in a strange pattern._

Mica's heart skipped a beat. All fancy stories disappeared without a thought as reality reasserted its control. Did he know her? What was he telling her? To warn or to lure? And was she supposed to know him or his signing? The girl looked away, then glanced back again. The boy was still there, although know his hands were still and he was looking at her curiously, with warm brown eyes and a little grin. And then he shrugged and was gone from sight before her mind could come up with another thought. 

Had she made a mistake coming here? She glanced at her hands. They were shaking, and a little corner of her mind was glad that no customers came until she marginally calmed down. But only marginally. She was jumpy the rest of the day, and slept badly. The next few days weren't that much better as she saw people glancing at her, and her mind populated the marketplace with _real_ spies that lurked in the shadows, looking for _her. It all made for achy stomachs and painful headaches…until the cold autumn rains came. That put a damper on her wild thoughts, and on the clientele as well. On days when the rain dropped from the sky in great sheets just above freezing point, no one who didn't have to, ventured outside. And servants did _not_ buy lace unless they were expressly asked to do so by their mistress. Over wise, it was a waste of time as well as another moment spent out of doors, in the cold. Sometimes, Mica succeeded in finding herself a sheltered corner out of the rain, but it was still terribly cold and humid. Those days, she was happy if she sold _one_ piece of lace –often times, there wasn't even that-. The old lady at the store grumbled and frowned, but didn't say much. She knew perfectly well what was happening. And she knew as well that in a few weeks, although the cold would be even worse, the rain would stop. And on bright, sunny days after a week spent mewed indoors, everyone who was anyone would come outside, and business would start again. In any case, had Mica not been here, Tania wouldn't have sold __any of the goods in the girl's tray; and that was a fact. So Mica stayed, and Tania grumbled at the weather, and the icy rain fell…until __everything changed, for the better and for the worse, one fine autumn day._

~*~*~

_Stop this, you idiot! Stop this right now!_ He jerked his head away with a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold, and for a moment, his mind went blank, until a pair of gray-blue eyes stared out at him from behind his eyelids. He chocked back a sob and opened his eyes to stare at the crowd of people walking in front of him. No on paid attention to him except little children because _they saw everything, and older boys, perhaps wishing to enter the guard as well, and wear the same dark blue uniform he did. But he didn't notice anyone either. _

_It's been a year. Almost a whole year. What's wrong with you!? She's dead! She left you! You'll never see her again! _He tried to channel his emotions into anger. That hurt far less than…than thinking about her. _Curse you! Curse the gods! Why?! Why did you take her away!? Why did you let her die?! Why then?! His face screwed into a grimace of half anger and half unbearable sorrow. The anger melted like snow over a fire, and left only the pain. That terrible pain that wracked his heart and refused to let him sleep. He saw her everywhere. On the faces of other people, in the guard barracks, …in his dreams. He had only just enough control of those raging emotions to do his job, and do it mediocrely at that. Before, he never did anything halfway; he always tried his best, but now…now his mind was always half with her. It was all he could do to make himself watch the crowds for disturbance or disorder. And when he stared too much, trying to get his mind to apply to the task, …he saw her again, sometimes dressed as she had been on the trip, with boy's pants and jerkin, sometimes as she must have looked back home, with long riding skirts of deep blue, and sometimes, he caught a glimpse of her in a royal amber gown, her dark, long hair sweeping her back. It was those moments that hurt the most, thinking about everything they had wished to do together and never did. _She had been so young…her whole life unlived…__

His heart contracted painfully, but this time, he did not try to fight the grief. He slumped on a crate at the edge of an open square, and let the sorrow take him were it would. He 'saw' her as the day he had proposed to her, the time she had told him she was pregnant. How old would the child have been now? A few months old? Would it have been a girl or a boy? His eyes followed a little girl of three in a pretty little dress; the child turned on him her big gray eyes, smiled, and waved full of innocence. His eyes blurred, as silent tears streamed down his face. __

_You killed it too. Oh god, you killed the two people I loved more than my life…_

He saw the crowd from behind a misty veil. The blurred dots of color moved like wild swirls in oil spills, and he watched, lost in thoughts, pain, and memories. He saw her face in a break in the crowd. It was as blurry as the rest of the world until he blinked and looked again. It didn't fade into the head of someone else; the image stayed as clear as…as reality. _This only looks like her, but it isn't her. He looked at that face for a long time, looked at her until someone else approached her and hid her from view. Only then could he wrench his gaze away, full of pity for what he had become. ___

_You keep seeing her everywhere. Let her go. Let her spirit rise to the havens instead of tying ot down to the oblivion of Earth. Do not let her be in pain as well._

_But it's so hard…_

_                        So hard to let go…_

_Do it for he_

_ …show her your love by letting her go…_

And he did, keeping with him the memories, but opening his 'hand' and letting her soul fly free. Then he stood, turned his back on her, and walked away.

~*~*~


	5. part 5

~Memories II~

by Ola

~*~*~

A/N~ sorry that it's a little short. Have been packing all day and doing all sorts of last minute stuff. This is the last update until after two months. I'm going on vacations with no internet access unfortunately. What am I going to do!!! Argg!!! *sigh*. Thank you for your wonderful reviews. =) I hope there'll be more when I come back! And hopefully, I'll have lots more of this story written down, ready to type and post! So here you go. Enjoy:

~*~*~

Part 5~

He had walked away, but the marketplace was his sector, and he didn't want to ask the captain to change his area of patrol. He didn't want to make trouble –it was impossible to imagine the amount of papers needed for a simple transfer- and he _liked_ it here. The captain wasn't a bad leader; he was _much better than Sindarin's previous one, over at that little village, where he had first settled. That bastard had been selfish, with an ego big enough for ten; while he ordered everyone around, __he sat all day in his office, not even pretending to fill out all the papers that were accumulating there. Useless to say, he hadn't stayed there long. _Here…_well, he wasn't happy, but he'll never be happy again, so that wasn't the point. __At least I an do some good here, were his thoughts, when he had a little of them to spare. So he came back to patrol the marketplace the next morning, with his heart a little lighter than usual. He had let her go. It had hurt terribly, like resetting a broken bone, but after the initial flash, there was a welcome numbness; the pain hadn't completely disappeared –it never would- but it had become bearable. There were no more phantoms of her face to haunt his daylight hours._

He walked with a skip, enjoying the crispy feel of the air on his face. Most of the dismal autumn days were over; now would come the bitterly cold but _sunny_ winter days…well, mostly sunny. In between would be the terrible snow storms, days during which he should be going out as well. _Should, but rarely did. _No _one was outside once a storm truly began, right until it ended. Even thieves beggars and criminals found themselves a place to hole up. But that was thinking too much in advance. The snow was still at least half a month away, and during that time, there could be plenty of rainy days, days when he _had_ to patrol. __Better not think of those too much. Today is perfect._

Perhaps the weather was, but not the day itself. Not really anyway.

He saw her again, dressed in a long, coarse, woolen skirt, and a warm, heavy shirt. Her dark hair reached a little below her shoulders, and her eyes slowly scanned the crowd. He was too stunned to either wave as hard as he could to get her attention, or lunge and hide from her view when her gaze passed over him, and then shocked again when she didn't seem to notice him.

_It's not her. It can't be her. It's just a girl who looks incredibly like her. Perhaps one of her sisters? She said she had sisters…or a cousin…_

He pushed his hands deep into his pockets to stop their shaking. He had thought he had made his peace with her yesterday. 

Obviously, he hadn't.                                        Not really.

_It can't be her. I haven't changed, she would have recognized me. She would have been angry, or happy, but not…indifferent._ Perhaps that indifference, more than anything, made him walk toward her with some uncertainty, while his heart beat wildly against his chest. He didn't know _what_ he was expecting, or what he _should_ expect, but his feet inexorably took him toward the girl. 

As he came closer, a part of his mind noticed little details about her, the way she stood more heavily on her right foot, the way she wrinkled her nose, the way she stood with her shoulders back and her spine ram-rod straight, then the color of her lips, the light freckles on her checks…and the color of the eyes she turned toward him. He stopped a few steps away, unable to take his eyes away form her. Although his head knew this could not be her, his heart cried loudly that it _was, and he desperately wanted to believe the latter. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to speak, to touch her. He could only look…for what if it wasn't her? He watched her face change from indifference to surprise to hope to…fear, while they looked at each other, enveloped in a cocoon of silence. Then her face dropped behind a mask._

"Can I help you sir?" his heart skipped a beat. It was her voice.

"Lan?" he whispered, but the girl glanced back behind her, as if making sure he was talking to her. "Lan, it's me, Sindarin. I…I made it, I'm in the guard. Lan…oh Lan….I…" so many things he wanted to tell her, and couldn't. He trailed off, seeing the fear in her face. As she took a step back, his mind gave him reasons –one worse than the next- as to why; and the one that came up the most frequently and vehemently was:_ it's not her! But at the same time, a part of his mind told him that it was. _Look at her. Look at her, damn it!! How many people have three freckles in a triangle at their right temple? How many people have those eyes?_ It was her. He knew it! On impulse, he took her limp hand in his, turned it palm up, and gently caressed the scar with his thumb. But before he could think of anything else to tell her, his joy, his love, she made a half-chocking, half-whimpering cry, wrenched her hand free, and ran, leaving him staring at he open mouthed._

~*~*~

She ran, tears in her eyes, knocking people over in her frantic attempt to get away, leaving in her wake numerous curses and people toppled off their feet. She only stopped her headlong race when her knees gave and she sprawled on a cobble-stoned side street. Her mind went blank as she gulped in air and calmed her shaking limbs, all the time listening for the sounds of pursuit. When no one came, and when she realized she no longer heard _anyone, much less the noise of a crowd, she gingerly got to her feet, wincing at her scrapped hands and knees, and looked around, to find that she was lost. She had blundered into an empty street lined with tall gray stone buildings. Each house was surrounded by a wall of the same material, high enough to hide everything but the top of the second story and the roof. Her blood ran cold as she realized where she was –for only the rich could afford to cut themselves off from the world thus. And for her, the rich were dangerous, because one of those houses could lodge someone who knew her –_like…like that young guard­­_- someone who would wish her harm._

Mica didn't loose a second; she made her way back to the end of the street as fast as she could without actually running to attract unwanted attention. But then she was met by another such street…and another… Only the increasing number of passersby reassured her that she was going somewhat in the right direction, and even then, she had to ask numerous times for directions, before she finally stumbled upon the marketplace, and then to the shop. By that time, dusk had fallen. She trudged upstairs to her little room in a daze, and only took off her shoes before flinging herself on her cot. 

She thought that she wouldn't be able to sleep for a long time, but she did, very quickly, as soon as her head touched the flat pillow, only to wake up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat and panting for breath, while she alternately shivered with cold and burned with fever. She staggered to the small window under the eaves and flung it wide open, letting the freezing air calm her down.

_I haven't had that nightmare for as long as Mrs. Zogriva died. Why now? What prompted it? _But even before she finished thinking the question, she already knew the answer. _The guard.__ He knows me…and I ran away from the only source of information about my past. What an idiot…but I got scared. Of course you did…that's why you ran. I wonder who he was though…not family. Not with that head of flaming hair. Perhaps he only wanted to charm you, so you would follow him and…and…but he seemed so happy to see me, and…hurt. Yes, that's what it was…he looked distressed when I backed away…I don't think he could have faked that. And he didn't run after me. Maybe he did, but you lost him…No, he couldn't have wished me harm, he…I know he didn't…He knows me. He knew about the scar. So it follows that I knew him too…but…      …damn it!_

A hot tear trickled down her check, and she wiped it away angrily, trying to remember something, _any_thing about him. But all she could remember where the soft brown of his eyes, and how those eyes had looked at her.

~*~*~


	6. part 6

~Memories II~

by Ola

~*~*~

A/N~ Again, sorry for the delay if you haven't read my updated profile (the long list of reasons is there as well, if you care to read those). Anyway, classes started again, (lots of those) which means slow updates (as if there weren't enough of those already. Sorry) So here is the next part; you get introduced to a new character and…well, read and see. And review please! =)

~*~*~

Part 6~

Mica woke up feeling tired and frustrated. And apprehensive. She longed to either stay abed all day, or leave the city, but neither was really an option. Unless she pleaded the flu or a broken leg, Tania would see her out the door with her tray of lace –it was business after all-. And winter was fast approaching, so she had _no_ reason to leave the safety of the town to look for work somewhere else. She may not find any, or she may freeze to death in the middle of the road.

_Not good. Better stay, for now. You can always leave if something goes wrong, although that should be a last resort. No running away because you get afraid. You hear me?! Don't. Do. It. It'll be the death of you, yet._ A bitterly cold wind came through her still open window, as if to punctuate her decision. So she dressed –or rather changed, since she had slept in her clothes- ate, and went out the door to brave the cold, and whatever fate flung at her face.

As soon as she entered the open square of the marketplace, she saw the young guard again and decided not to tempt fate any more than she had to, so she avoided him all day. He wasn't hard to miss with that red hair and his dark blue uniform. He wasn't the only guard around –others were indiscreetly patrolling the streets as well, to discourage mischief by their presence alone- but she avoided them _all._

_No saying whether he told them about me to. Jeez…what has the world come to? I'm fleeing from guardsmen when I'm not even a thief or a criminal!_ But she continued to play cat-and-mouse with him, thankful that there wasn't that many blue uniforms walking around. And while she always kept an eye out for them, even when transacting with customers –no easy feat, but feasible if she was willing to sell slightly less than she could have if she had really paid attention to the lace- her mind went on a road of its own. 

She didn't really know what to do. She couldn't keep hiding from him forever! She had two clear choices –well three-. Go straight up to him and talk, avoid him like the plague…or wait a little more and prevaricate – although she had no idea how that would help-. That wasn't a comforting thought. None of them were. For a moment, she wondered whether she would have to spend the rest of her life hiding and fleeing. 

_I could save enough money to move to Rethwellan…or Iftel. _No _one would follow me there…but…_

She made a face at the prospect and kept on walking around the marketplace, stopping only to make a sale, although she would have wished there wouldn't be so many customers. _What is it today with people buying lace? I was here for the past fortnight and almost no one came! Now it's an invasion!_ She frowned, and scanned the crowd once more.

She hadn't expected the danger to come from another source and started when someone drawled: "Well well well, look who's here…"

Mica whirled around, her heart in her throat. Before her stood a tall, broad shouldered young man. As her employer had been tall and massive, this one was tall and muscular. And used to getting what he wanted. He was _not_ wearing the blue of the guards. 

"That wasn't nice leaving off like that," he wagged his finger at her as to a naughty child; he even spoke that way, with that dirty leer still on his face. "And I was all set in becoming your dear husband. You broke my mother's heart by disappearing." He didn't seem to care about his mother in the least. But he pouted, a rather unbecoming trait on a grown man, while Mica stared at him with shock and fear.

_This? My future husband? Was this _my_ choice? Did I ever love him? Oh god…he's…he's…I'd rather die…_But she was like a mouse seeing the stretched talons of an owl. _Except that this is no wise owl. It's a self-indulgent idiot with ideas too broad for his little mind._ She composed her face into a careful mask of a properly affronted lady.

"Excuse me sir, but I do not know what you are talking about. You must be mistaken. My name is … Mareea Ezra. I have never met you before." She hoped he wouldn't notice the slight hesitation in her voice as she made up a name from the top of her head. It was as polite an answer as a merchant's daughter would voice, so she nodded in a sketchy salute and made to leave. 

But he would have none of it and before she could loose him in the crowd, he wrapped his fingers around her upper arm so hard she knew it would bruise, and wrenched her forcefully around. "Shut up wench. You're mine. And you won't leave a second time," he growled, his face so close to her that she almost fainted from the reek of bad ale and beer. Although she tried not to show it, she was terrified, and her heart beat as loudly as a drum.

_But he can't hurt me here. Not with so many people around us as witnesses._

Obviously he could, for he wrenched her again and began dragging her off with him, while talking as if to a dim-witted and disobedient servant. "Now, now. Do not be difficult missy. Mother _told you to come home as soon as you were done. She will be most unhappy to know you dawdled on the way for so long." To her horror, the crowd didn't pay any attention to them above several glances of disdain meant for __her!_

She tried wrenching away, but it was no use; the man was like a bull, and he only increased the hold on her hand –any more pressure and it would break-. In a blind panic, she took in a large breath and opened her mouth to scream, but before any sound could emanate from her throat, she heard a loud "let her go!"

"I think not, brat. She's mine, and I'll do with her what I want."

"Let her go. I will not repeat myself." There was a dangerous growl in his voice that made her captor slow down, then stop, and turn around, while still keeping her pined before her, thus giving her a clear view of the speaker. But she knew that voice; she had recognized him even without seeing him.

_The red haired guard. And right now, he's a _much_ better prospect than that…that…brute. _She tugged one more time- it had no more effect than her previous attempts.

Let's settle this in between us, shall we? Among men. Unless you only try your strength with ladies?" the guard's voice was calm, cold as ice, scornful, and made to anger.

The large man scowled, his eyes lingering on the blue uniform, then sneered. "And have half the town's guards on my back for fighting with one of their brats? What do you take me for, an idiot?" he made as if to leave, when the guard slowly too of his dark blue jacket and threw it on a nearby crate.

"It's a personal matter." His opponent looked him up and down, smirked, and threw her roughly to the ground, spilling the contents of her tray all about her. The guard glanced at her, his eyes narrowed in sullen furry she did not understand, just as the brute took the opportunity of inattention to swing at him. Mica gasped as he barely avoided the crushing blow meant for the throat, and the fight was on. People quickly moved out of the way, while others gladly took their place, coming to watch, forming a circle around the combatants. And Mica could only stare, unable to move, while her numb mind noticed the most inconsequential things.

_The dark red highlights in his hair, the way his muscles play when he crouches, that moved he just pulled off…I know it from somewhere…_

She hissed when he got a rather nasty punch on the cheek, realizing that she badly wanted him to win. Her heart clenched painfully. _Yes, I want him to win. And I want to beat that other bastard myself. Down to a bloody pulp if possible…_

_…he knew me…                      …unless he lied, to make me more tractable…but he's dangerous anyway. Leave._

_There'll be more like him wherever I go._

_But maybe not someone who knows you! Leave! Now! While you still can!_

_But…what about…the guard?...Sindarin? …He…I…_

_Leave! Leave leave leave!!_

With a sudden crack, the young guardsman broke the other man's nose, then punched him a few more times in the gut for good measure.

_Now!_

Mica scrambled to her feet and fought her way through the crowd of onlookers. She didn't wait to see the burly man fall to his knees, or the guard's panicked expression as he found her gone. She didn't wait. She ran to the shop, up the stairs, hastily threw her belongings into her bag, and ran back down two minutes later, gasping for breath. The shop was empty. _Good. But… She stepped behind the counter, rummaged for a blank piece of paper and scribbled a quick note that she hid in the log book. The girl was almost out the door before she noticed with bewilderment the tray of lace still around her neck. __Must have picked it up...can't really remember… She took the time to deposit it on a nearby table, as guilt washed over her over the rushed departure, then turned her back on everything and walked out._

"Hey, you…" with a sudden idea, she grabbed a kid's arm. "Do you know who owns this shop?" the boy nodded. "Will you tell the lady that I am truly sorry; and to everyone else asking for me that I was sent to the next village to the East to deliver a package?" the child looked at her for a moment, with big brown eyes. "I'll give you a copper." The boy beamed and nodded enthusiastically.

_Well, money can't buy you happiness, but it sure is helpful._

~*~*~

A/N~ wanted to get it out as soon as possible, so didn't proofread or edit. Hope there aren't too many errors. Please review! (anyone still reading this? Really hope so.)

*grins and waves*

ola.


	7. part 7

~Memories II~

by Ola

~*~*~

A/N~ Huh, haven't updated for a while, have I? *grins sheepishly* Sorry. Blame school and laziness. I WILL finish this story, sometime. I promise. It may just take a while. A long while. I'm trying to finish all my stories, and if you are a writer, you'll probably understand how stories that you have left lying around for a long time don't seem to want to finish themselves, eh? I think I just got out of the mood for them. one major writing block. So it may be a while before the next part is up. It was supposed to be a long story. I had it all planed out. Well, I still do, but I don't know if I'll write all of it or if I'll abridge it a little. We'll see. Anyway, thank you for the reviews =) it means it a lot to me. I hope some of you still enjoy this.

~*~*~

Part 7~

_Damn it. Damn it!_ Sindarin heaved and tried to calm down. _Relax. Cracking the asshole's head will only bring trouble. It's not worth it…Oh but how he wished he could…one more kick?_ He hurt her! He dared drag her away like a servant! He…_The young guardsman clenched his teeth painfully and walked away without a backward glance at his downed opponent._

As soon as he was clear of the ring of observers, he resolutely walked toward the edge of the market. _Good thing I followed her home last fortnight…to that place she calls home anyway…knew it would come in handy…But when he entered into the dimly lit, narrow and dust smelling shop, he was greeted by…silence. No shopkeeper…and definitely no Lan._

"Hello? Excuse me?" Sindarin's voice echoed against the walls and came back to him warped, but still the only sound audible. _She won't answer idiot…maybe she's hiding. _The other two rooms downstairs were as devoid of life. _But…_he looked at the dark stairwell and wringed his hands…_I can't go up there…it's…I'm not…damn it!_ After one last glance outside to make absolutely sure no one was watching him, he darted upstairs, his bootheels reverberating loudly against the muffled sounds of the street below…to find it as empty as downstairs. _Shit. There wasn't much of _any_thing there, and it worried him. _Have I mistaken the place?...No, I'm sure this is the one…but then…none of her belonging are here…she has to have had more than the skirt she was wearing today and I don't think she's borrowing everything from someone else and…_he knew he was babbling; he didn't want the babbling to end, because if it did, __when it did, he would have to acknowledge that _she left. Dear God…she ran away…_his knees felt weak, and for a moment, he sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing the coarse blanket absentmindedly, and letting all his emotions wash through him without restrain. And it hurt. It hurt so damn much to have found her only to loose her again._

He found himself on the street, sitting on the ground beside the shop's door with no recollection of coming down. He brought his knees to his chest and hid his head into his hands, staring at the space of road in between his boots from behind his fingers. _She left. She didn't even acknowledge my presence…she…she acted as if she didn't know me! Doesn't she love me anymore? But…she…I… I mean we…I thought…damn it! Damn it all!! _He squeezed his eyes shut against the sting of tears. _I will not cry for her! If she wants to leave, fine! If she doesn't speak to me, fine! If…if she doesn't love me…he sobbed without finishing the thought. _~I will follow you to the end of the world~ I promised. And I will. If only to watch over you from afar. To keep you safe. _He clenched his hands and stood up._

"Excuse me, have you seen a young woman coming out of this shop?"

            "Excuse me, I'…"

"Sir? I'm looking for a young woman. Black hair, green eyes, dressed in a brown skirt…Thank you sir."

                                                            "Miss? No, she hasn't…she was this tall…"

            "Excuse me…"

"Did she have a tray of lace?" Sindarin turned on his heels, searching for the owner of the new voice and found…a young boy.

"Yes…"

"She told me t'say she went to Gilvar for a d'livery."

"Did she? Go there, I mean?" the boy shrugged. "Do you know her?"

"No. Seen her in market s'metimes."

"Since when?"

"A few weeks only. Has she done something bad?"

"No. This has nothing to do with the guard. She is…a friend of mine, and I haven't seen her for a long time. I need to talk to her."

"Ah." Another shrug.

"Thank you boy."

"Uh huh."

He was out of the city gates before he thought to ask the boy whether she had ridden a horse out. _But she wouldn't have been able to keep one in the city easily, had she acquired one beforehand. She certainly didn't have one before she…disappeared. And she didn't seem to be too prosperous now._ Thinking about that day, he wondered how exactly she had lived through the rockslide, and that in turn made him think about their relationship prior to the accident. And the child. What had happened to it? Had it lived through the ordeal as well, or died prematurely? A lump formed in his throat, but he forced it down. There would be time to think about it later. He had to find her first. Hopefully before it began to rain. But the air was still clear and the long stretch of straight road ahead was empty but for a lone mule driven wagon heading his way. And then it hit him like a stone. She hadn't left any possessions back in her room. She had asked a boy to tell whoever was following her exactly where she was going.

The old man on the heap of turnips hasn't seen a soul on this road for the past two candelmarks-at which time she had still been in the city- and neither did he now see any traveler or even the dust of anyone moving on the horizon. _She ran away. In the opposite direction. Damn it. _The old annoyance with his ex-partner briefly flashed through him before he remembered it wasn't so anymore, and the ever-present pain and sadness returned to squeeze his chest._ It was just like her too. She hasn't lost her edge. She knows perfectly well what she's doing. Why then is she running away from good work and a room into the unknown? Why is she running away from…me?_

But there was no time to loose; she had a good advance on him. Dared he stop on the way for a hunting dog if there was only one other road out of the city anyway? But what if she left it and walked cross country through the forest? _What did you do through guard class, sleep? You're a tracker, damn it. Yes…and she's an even better one. _With a grim tightening of his lips, he remembered the time she had lost him in that little piece of forest. _Mandatory stop at the hunter's barracks then._

~*~*~


	8. part 8

Memories II

by Ola

A/N I'm procrastinating (not that it's unusual) so I thought that if I wasn't doing work, I could at least do something useful. So here I am again, trying to finish this story. And yes, it's been three quarters of a year since the last time I updated (I feel bad enough as it is. You don't need to add to the humongous guilt). I hope some of you are still out there, waiting for this damned story to end, and I hope you'll enjoin this next part as well…

Part 8

"700 crowns. She's my best bitch."

"Done."

"What, no haggling? No bargaining?"

"No." A wry smile followed the terse negation. "I don't have the time."

The old man patted the little dog's head and looked into the distance. "Whoever you're searching for must be very important."

"Yes. She is. Very." Sindarin's gaze followed the hunter's, who suddenly looked straight at him with a serious and somewhat pained expression.

"You do realize you have been duped."

"Yes." Was his soft smile of acceptance toward the old man or…her?

"I'm almost sad to part with her. I hope she will serve you well." With one last pat, he handed over the leash. "Go with the young man, Zara, and be a good dog. Yes, that's it. Go now."

"Thank you sir."

"No, it is I who should thank you." And then he was gone, barely hearing the hunter's "Good bye, and good luck young man…I'll miss you Zara." The last one was a whisper on the wind, perhaps not meant to be heard.

_"Hopefully before it began to rain."_ He only hoped that the fat drops splattering on the leaves above his head had not come sooner because of his earlier declarations. Such things happened, he knew. But not to him. It had to be a simple coincidence.

Fortunately, at first, the leaves stopped the rain from hitting the ground, and only the somewhat muffled patter of the drops could be heard above his head. However, no matter how leafy and dense the forest was, the water finally found its way down, in between the greenery, to trickle onto the neck, face and hands of the young man walking below. As the rain intensified, his heart beat faster. The water was beginning to wash away the tracks.

_No! _He hurried the little dog along. Suddenly, the wind picked up as well, shaking the branches forcefully and dropping a true waterfall on the poor guard, while the cold air stabbed through his thin shirt. He did not even take the time to notice. Actually, he was even a little warm. Until the little hunting dog stopped under a fallen tree and began to bark loudly. Until the young man noticed the dark red puddle and the trace of fingers clawing the soft earth. There was no body though, and that's what may have given him a little bit of hope. He tried not to stare at that place for long, as horrific images played before his eyes; images he could do nothing to dispel. Zara padded a little way off, as if feeling the young man's frantic worries and wishing to give him some privacy.

_Calm down. It won't help to worry. But… how can I NOT worry!!_

The puddle of blood was slowly sinking into the moist ground, coloring it a rusty red, except where drops of it stayed on old leaves, like dark lifeless beetles. The earth there held small furrows and was turn upside down, as if a child had used it to play with and build sandcastles then suddenly left everything lying as it was. The wood of the newly fallen tree was still pale and clean, and leaking sap from the break. All those facts pointed to a terrible end. An end he did not want to think about. And yet, what else could have happened here?

He heard zara barking again, but he couldn't really pay attention. He couldn't concentrate on anything, and simply stood under the rain like one more immobile tree in the forest.

The little dog came back and pulled at his pant leg, and the guard let himself be led only because it gave him something to do. But when he saw what Zara had sniffed out, he would have hugged the little dog if it hadn't taken up any more precious time.

Fresh, semi-circular prints were filling up with water. A fraction of a second later, so were army-boot-prints and paw prints, spaced out evenly in a running pattern, straight along the sickles of the horseshoes.

He ran as long as his legs were able to move, and as long as his lungs could draw air, wondering which would fail him first. He hadn't counted on it being his eyes, blurry from the wind and the prickly rain. He simply didn't see that tree root. And then, both his legs and lungs failed at the same time. He smashed into the ground from all his length, skidding on the mud before coming to a shuddering halt. Despite his best attempts to get up, the mud sucked at his legs and arms, impeding his progress. No amount of screaming or swearing helped except to finally take his voice away as well. And during all that time, Zara sat on her hint legs, and calmly waited for her new master, not in the least bothered by the cold or the rain.

The boy however, was turning blue from the cold, brown from the mud, and his face wasn't even red from his exertion. His fingers were so stiff that he couldn't open his hand to clean it somewhat on his pants. Not that those were any cleaner than any other part of him. but he still got up, half dragging his feet on the dead leaves littering the forest floor, half running and staggering. He wasn't exactly sure where he was going. All he knew, on some level, was that the rain had ceased a while ago, and that Zara was still leading him onward. Always onward.

He was forced to stop once more to catch his breath before he stumbled onto a road. Or rather, it was a rivulet of mud with a few little islands of relatively drier earth. But it did not mater. The road was leading to a town. And he was bound to find help there.

A/N I know I know, it's short. Sorry. But if I don't post this part now, and wait to write more, there's no knowing WHEN it will be posted! So at least here is a little more. (yes, short and plot-less. Forgive me). But on the brighter side, I'm done with school. And finish work early enough to be able to write more freely now! =)

ola


	9. part 9

Memories II  
by Ola  
  
A/N Since that last chapter had been really short (not to mention that it was really overdue), here is another, longer, one to make up for it, okay? I hope you like it. Others will be upcoming (I'm out of school now, and 'll have a little more time to write.) Please review if you have comments about the quality of this story (as well as if you want something to happen in it, or... well, just write whatever you want! =) Enjoy:  
  
Part 9  
  
He wasn't surprised to see several little children standing at the gate of the town, their hands extended towards the travelers coming in. the looked between 6 and 12 years of age, although they were probably much older, small and thin from lack of food and shelter. The two guards who stood there did not pay attention to the little beggars, as did most of the people passing by, either because of their own economic troubles or lack of heart. As a matter of fact, he was given a wide berth as well. That did not surprise him either. He probably looked just as scrawny and bedraggled as those children now.  
  
"Excuse me sir, have you seen a horseman bearing a wounded girl?" One of the two guards nodded and pointed toward town.  
  
"A sir herald, and a girl, aye. She was hurt. The went into the 'good traveler.' 'S right down the road. Red door. Is it a matter with the guard?" Ah. Yes, my uniform. Is that why they are so polite to one looking suck as I?  
  
"Thank you. No. it is a personal mater."  
  
The children had taken to patting Zara, who showed her obvious pleasure by a wagging tail and lolling tongue. A slight jerk on the leash was the only necessary gesture to bring her to heel.  
  
"Come on Zara. You too little ones. I'll give you something. Come." They glanced at each other and hurried to comply, catching up with no problems to his now slow steps.  
  
The inn was almost empty at this hour. No white companion. No white clad herald. And no Lan.  
  
"How can I help you?" The matron was nearing old age; her clothes were utilitarian and in the fashion of the country side, but they were clean and neatly mended. The same could be said about the inn. Clean and simple.  
  
"Please give a good meal to those children. Do not worry, I'll pay for them... I'm looking for the Herald who I was told passed through here." A glance and a silence.  
  
"He left not a half hour ago."  
  
"And the girl he brought with her?"  
  
"He took her with him."  
  
"Do you know where they went?"  
  
"To Haven of course... is she family?"  
  
"Yes. I have to find her. Is there a horse I could buy here?"  
  
"Poor boy. The companion will reach Haven in three days. It will take you six if you don't spare your horse."  
  
"I'll pay good money." But the old lady only repeated "poor boy."  
  
The little beggars stood in a corner, looking on at the scene. From a side door came an elderly man, eerily similar in physical appearance to the woman. The two shared a silent look, then the man nodded and left, his footsteps heard on the wooden floors. Time. This took too much time. Every second that went by increased his distance from Lan, but the old woman went about her chores with maddening slowness.  
  
"Madam, I understand that you do not want to part with your only horse, but then please tell me who will! I will pay! I s..."  
  
"Hush young man. Sit down. You have not eaten." Arggg!!!  
  
"I do not have time! Every minute I stay here, the Herald draws closer to Haven, and the distance between us grown larger! I c..." The woman finally smiled and pointed toward the front door. The man stood there, holding a horse by the halter, while the woman brought in a steaming soup and ushered the children to sit at the table.  
  
"Thank you good woman." Sindarin gave her a heavy purse, tinkling with metal coins.  
  
"That is too much young man. Use it to find your lady." But he would not take it back.  
  
"Then please accept this as a payment for those young ones' meals until the money runs dry."  
  
He almost didn't feel the slight tugging at his pant leg. When he finally realized it, he looked down upon a little girl's head, covered with short, matted, blond hair that curled behind her ears. The girl's young age was accentuated by her short height, thin form, and the large, baggy blouse she wore. Only the tip of the three longest fingers peeked out from underneath the long sleeves.  
  
"Thank you sir." Her voice contrasted decisively with her appearance, and seemed out of sort in this environment. A sad smile appeared on Sindarin's tired face, as he patted her head.  
  
"You are welcome little one." He was about to leave when he thought of something else. "Would you like to earn a silver piece?" the girl nodded enthusiastically.  
  
"Then I would ask you to return this little dog to a man living on the other side of the forest. Follow this road back for half a day and you will find his house on the edge of the trees, okay?" her curls bounced again.  
  
"But..." he frowned for a moment and looked around. "Do not go alone. There..." he beckoned to an older looking boy, "go with him. you will each get a coin, alright?" the boy's face split into a grin.  
  
"Yes sir!"  
  
"Thank you again, madam... and sir. I am in your debt." With a last nod, he scrambled onto the horse. The saddle creaked, and in another alley, someone shouted. The horse did not even move. Only when he nudged it did it go into a fast gallop. Perhaps he still had a chance now. He could only hold that hope close to his heart. He had nothing else to hold onto as the horse flew through the fields, leaving a cloud of reddish dust in the sunset.  
  
In the few moments he wasn't thinking about Lan, he wondered what his father would think of him. He was spending plenty of money, which may clue the king in that his youngest son was not acting as he usually does. 'Or he might just think I found a... how should I put this delicately... a ladies' house. That would warrant spending that kind of money according to him...' He would have snorted if his mouth wasn't so dry. He could taste the dust as it gritted between his teeth. Actually, he could feel it in his eyes too, and on every exposed part of himself. It felt as if the road was slowly being transposed onto him. A small corner of his mind wondered how much he weighed now, with all that dust on him. at least, such irrelevant thoughts were less gloomy than those of his father's... or of Lan's. Oh god. How he hoped she was okay.  
  
He had left the inn in the early evening, and the sun was already half hidden behind the horizon. The horse was slowing down, his pace now obviously not what it was at the start. 'But I can't stop! Not yet! Never!' The young guard kept on going, letting the horse walk in the darkness, before once again spurring him into a gallop some time later.  
  
No sleep. No food. How long now? The days all blurred into one long, grueling run, interspersed with stumbling walks when the horse staggered and the occasional rest for water. And even as short and as far apart as were those breaks, they angered the man. Yes, they were important, especially for the horse, but it made him that more angry that he was angry with himself for stopping in the first place. So he kept the breaks as short as possible, and yet, they still seemed to grow to unimaginable proportions in his mind. What was Lan doing now? Had she arrived safely? Was she okay? She's in Haven. At the Healers'. And a herald took care of her, for God's sake. She's in no harm, right? Right? No amount of reasoning quenched his sick worry. He had seen the puddle of blood in the forest, and the gouges in the earth. she was hurt. Oh please. Make her okay. Keep her safe. Please. He spurred the foaming horse to foundering, then dismounted and led the beast on foot. he had to get there!  
  
The countryside was just as empty, and the road still as weaving in between the hills. Where was he? Why haven't he reached Haven yet? In his half- dazed state, he could vaguely remember crossing a few sleepy towns in the dead of night, and a wagon or two on the road during the day. His eyes blurred from the wind, and from his ever-growing fear and frustration. One more candlemark of stumbling run, followed by an exhausted plodding, on and off, with nothing to show for his efforts but the endless road stretching before him. One hill, and the next, and the n...  
  
The sudden view of the sprawling city momentarily stopped him in his tracks. There was nothing in the surrounding hills to hint at that agglomeration of people nestled in between them. Even the horse quickened its pace, as if aware of his new master's renewed hope. Or simply catching the smell of water and hay. Haven. His heart beat a little faster, and his head was held a little higher. And despite the numbing weariness that unfocused his eyes, a little hope once again began to glow in his heart, because it just wasn't possible for Lan not to be alright. It wasn't possible for them not to see each other again. It wasn't... because he wouldn't permit it. With that determination firmly planted in mind, he passed through the city gates, to be assailed by childhood memories as well as new sights. This was the place he had visited as a child, remembering the festivals/holidays of mid-winter and mid-summer. This was the place he had once lost himself, to be rescued by an older brother livid with worry, while he had been peacefully chasing after a pretty butterfly. And this was the place were...  
  
"You there! stop! Thief! He stole my horse! Don't let him get away! Stop him I tell you!" The reigns were torn from his hand, while two powerful gloves clamped on his shoulders. Of all the things he remembered, this one wasn't it, and thus, added to his travel weary brain, by the time he registered what was happening, he was already being led away by two city guards.  
  
"What the hell are you doing," he managed to rasp. "That was my horse. Can't you see it's about to founder, just as I am? We've just arrived into the city, after... god knows how many days on the road. There's no way I could have stolen it! I have something important to do!" He jerked on his restrains.  
  
"Not as important as going to the chief. You might not have stolen that horse, but we can't simply let you go."  
  
"At least take me to the head guard on the palace grounds then." After a shared look of surprise, the guards shrugged, and the young man let himself be led away. At least he was getting closer to Lan. Now... all he had to do was convince those idiots he was innocent.  
  
A/N Didn't have time to edit, so hopefully there won't be too many glaring mistakes. Please tell me if you find something truly awful and I'll fix it! =) Oh, also, it seems that fanfiction.net doesn't like my squiggly little things in between scenes. They disappear in the final version, for some reason. So I'll try to post this up as a doc. File, and I hope it won't scramble things too much (cross fingers) 


	10. part 10

Memories II

by Ola

Part 10

_All he had to do was convince those idiots he was innocent._

_Yes. The easiest thing in the world._ Especially when they had ordered him to sit down, in a warm, warm room. Such entourage made for very sleepy conditions, no matter how much he thought against the heaviness of his eyelids. After staying awake for the past few days with hardly a moment to close his eyes, he was on the brink of exhaustion. Or rather, he was already past the brink, clinging to wakefulness by the tip of his slipping fingers. With a heavy sigh, punctured by a yawn, he wondered whether he could somehow escape from this situation by revealing his identity. He had never played much upon his rank in the past, but… this was different. This was important.

Important enough to trod over the feet of other prisoners in line to be questioned because he was nobility? 

… _yes__._

For Lan… 

"Officer, could I request a witness?"

"Who would that be?" With a sight, the guardsman straightened in his chair and reached for a piece of paper.

"My cousins sir. One of them is bound to be in the palace at this hour."

"Name?"

"Marguerite Val Lancet. Or Eleohnor. Actually, could you perhaps ask for Aline Fel Tangel, from the healers? She could perform a truth spell on me at the same time as acting as a witness." Sindarin tried not to show his amusement too much, as the guard's mouth fell open wider with each name that the prisoner uttered.

"Why did you not tell me your name boy?" At that, Sin frowned.

"I should not be able to leave this room solely on the basis of my name. I just want someone to truth spell me. Is that so hard to ask for?"

"No. Of course not. I will bring Milady Aline at once." "Jalen! Run to the Healers. Ask for Milady Aline. Tell her it is important!" One of the younger guards standing at the door saluted and trotted away.

"Would you desire something to eat?"

"No, thank you. I just want to get out of here." He frowned at the sudden change in the officer's manners. Would it have killed him to be this nice to Sindarin even if he _wasn't_nobility?

"I understand boy. But I cannot let you out just yet." The '_boy_' grinned.

"You seem very joyful for my announcement. Forgive me for my rudeness, but what has you grinning up to your ears?" At that, he grinned even more.

"I am glad that you have not made an exception for me simply because of my birth rank. The queen's guards work well. I was about to have a word with her if you had let me slip past without a proper interrogation."

"Ah, well, in that case, I am glad for your happiness as well." The officer's lips tugged up into a smile, and he now looked a lot more like a cheery old grandfather instead of a sour guard.

_If only everyone was this nice, but sill abiding by the law… that is one of the reasons I wished to become a guard._

_Pff__, stop deluding yourself, _said a darker little voice in his head. _You went to the guard training because you wanted to run away from home. To escape your father's strict -and according to you, awful- wishes for your future. _

Well, that could not be denied. As much as he respected Queen Elspeth for how well she ran the country, he had no desire to be in such a similar position, albeit on a much smaller scale. Let him deal with the rogues and criminals from the bottom up. That suited him well enough.

That, and finding Lan… 

Soon now. Very soon. As soon as Aline arrives. Perhaps she will even have information about incoming patients over in Healers.

Booted footsteps in the hall outside the room drew Sindarin out of his thoughts, and he craned his neck to get a quicker glimpse of the arrivers. The young guard who had been dispatched for this errand was back. With him was Lady Aline, and…

"Jehffary?" Sindarin felt his mouth fall open in shock. Hell, he was much too tired to keep his surprise in check.

The last man stepped into the room and glanced around with a snort before his gaze stopped at the prisoner sitting in the middle.

"I go away to Haven for a year, and my brother decides to become a thief?" his voice had not changed since the last time he had heard it. It was still the same, cool, composed baritone. But why _would_ it change? First Prince Jehffary Roan Grisha Dae Vaugh was a grown man. A very _large_ grown man, an almost perfect copy of their father in his own youth.

"I am not a thief Jehf. I rode in here on my own horse, and that… that _idiot_ out there starts yelling for the guards." His eyes narrowed in reminiscence. 

"Aline, could you please do a quick Truth Spell for me? I have something very important I need to do."

"Not as important as explaining to me what you are doing here, dressed like a beggar, smelling like one, and looking as if you were chased out of hell."

_Why does everyone insist that what I have to do is not as important as what _they _wish me to do? Sigh._

"What sense would it make to tell the story twice? Aline, please?" With a quick glance at the officer and a nod, she place her hand right above his forehead and murmured a phrase before taking a step back, giving him an encouraging smile.

"Can I talk now?" he didn't _feel _any different…

"Yes."

"I'm innocent. I bought that horse from an elderly couple over in a town a few days from here. That guy who got me into this… well, I don't know anything about him. So that's that." Quick and to the point. If only they could have done that two _candelmarks_ ago!

"Mmm, yes well, that leaves no point of discussion. We will have to question that man as well. We have your previous account already, so that leaves you free to go. We know where to find you if we happen to need you again." That was as clear a dismissal as he was going to wait for. He shot off the chair, slightly amazed at that bout of strength. But he wasn't about to question it.

"And where do you think you're going?" That cool voice stopped him as much as the large hand on his shoulder.

"I don't have time for this Jehf." Was all he said before slapping the hand away and running off. _I don't have time to play the little brother. You never seemed to care before. Hell if I'll let you talk down to me before those guards. If anything, this is family business. And no business of mine if I can help it. _

As he rounded a corner, stretching his legs into a fast walk, short of outright running, he smacked his forehead.

Shit. Aline is still there. Bah, might as well go to the Healers without her since I'm almost halfway there.

He remembered little of the narrow paths he used to roam with his cousins as a child. Much had changed from that time, the paths, the buildings, and the faces of the people bustling by. Perhaps he should have visited more often, instead of letting their friendship fade. Perhaps he could still remedy the rift that was slowly growing between them. Perhaps. After he found Lan.

After he found _some_one in those be-damned twisty halls. Why hadn't he thought about ever playing hide and seek in the maze-like corridors of the Healers? Now that he was here, he wondered why no children made it their playground. It would have been incredible…

…or perhaps not.

Not if the stern elderly woman presiding over the desk in a widening part of the hallway that acted as an atrium had worked here then as well. Her clothing left no doubt as to her profession –and her scowling as to her demeanor-. Scowling that was quite visibly trained at _him._ Like the proverbial hawk eying the mouse. Well, looking as he did, of course he would draw eyes. Not any kind of good intended ones though.

"May I help you, …young man?" Her lips haven't even seemed to move, barely opening to let those words through. With a little nod, Sindarin approached her.

"Yes. I am looking for someone who I believe was admitted into Healers a few days ago."

"Family?"

"Ah… yes. My… wife."

"Name?" His name? Why did she need his name? He couldn't give it to her! Well, he could, but … he didn't _want _to. It would only d…

"What is her name boy." The healer repeated herself with an impatient sigh.

"Ah… Mikolanea... Seraleen. Lan."

"She is not in the registry." His face fell. He had been so sure they had brought her here…

"_But_… there are several patients, unnamed because of …circumstances…" her listing died down to a mutter as she followed a ledger with a thin finger.

"Blond?'

"Excuse me?"

"Was she blond?"

"Ah, no…"

"Mmmm….Lira…  …. Broken ribs…. Mmmm… Elani …..  …. Maranea …..   …. epithelial …   … No, I do not think she is here. Are you sure someone brought her to the Palace's Healers? There are two or three other, smaller Healer's clinics in the city."

"She was brought in by a Herald."

"Do you know his name?"

"No, I was told by someone else who saw him."

"Huh. I can only dispatch someone to ask around for a mindspeaker, who can _then_ ask all the companions and their Heralds about your wife. It may take a little while, but there is nothing else I can do."

"Thank you."

The Healer left her post to recruit a young healer trainee.

He didn't like waiting. He had been waiting so long already, that a few more minutes should not make a difference. And yet, they did. After more than a year of not knowing what had befallen Lan, after then finding her, by coincidence, and then loosing her again…

Too much. It was just too much.

But all he could do was step from one foot to the other and wring his hands, keeping his eyes trained on the door, as the minutes pass by with the rapidity of turtles.

Every time he heard footsteps, his heart lodged in his throat, only to drop down to his boots when a harried healer quickly passed him by on some errands. Time after time, those false alarms kept his insides well knotted, until he was ready to scream, and go look for that Healer himself.

"You needed something, Mara?" Sin was given a cursory glance before the Herald  turned to the Healer.

"Yes Arol. Did you bring in a patient for us those past few days?"

"Ah yes, actually I did. Three days ago. A young woman."  Arol's eyebrows rose in question, as he looked from Mara to Sindarin.

"Did she tell you her name? What did she look like?"

"She was dark haired, and she had green-gray eyes. She was not overly tall, and her hair was rather short. I found her in the forest, east of here, near the Iftel border. Her leg was badly injured, and since I was coming back to Haven anyway, I escorted her here."

"Her name Arol. Did she give you her name."

"Ah, yes. I believe it was Mica… I think. Healer Tedal took care of her."

The Healer's eyes hadn't left Sindarin's face for the duration of the talk, and she had not much doubt as to the identity of the missing woman.

"Thank you Arol. Oh, would you mind telling Karla I need to see her about her arm? That woman will drive me crazy with the way she insists on saying she is 'just fine' while her arm is just about to fall off." With a role of the eyes that spoke volumes about the said Karla, the Herald departed with a a smile and a quick nod.

"Come. Or are you going to stand here and stare into space all day? If anyone, Healer Tedal will know where your wife is." Despite the woman's rather harsh words, her face had somewhat softened into a semblance of pity. After years of her profession, she had seen countless such stories unraveling before her, but that did not mean that she had grown immune to suffering and grief. She would not have been a real Healer if she had.

The painful flash of hope that had exploded in Sindarin's chest was snuffed out so fast it left him reeling.

"What do you mean she's not here?" He was too shocked for speech, and let the woman handle the conversation.

"Just as I said. She is not in Haven. She is not even in Valdemar anymore."

"…What?"

"Apart from having a badly sprained and injured leg, that young woman also lost her memory. For quite some time now, it seems. Neither I, nor anyone else, could do anything for her here, therefore I send her to K'Treva. I know SpringDance will take good care of her."

Sindarin didn't listen to the end of the Healer's talk. He simply walked away in a daze, unresponding to the woman calling him back.

He had been so close to finally having her back by his side. So close, only to have her disappear forever.

_'lost her memory'_

_                                    'lost her…'_

_                                                                                    '…memory'_

Memory of him. Of them.

_'I will go to the end of the world to get you back'_

_To the end of the world.__ But how can I reach you in your own mind?_

A/N Weeee, I think this is the longest part yet! Did that explain a few things? There will be a bit more about Sindarin's family history later on. But first, I have to go back to Lan. The poor girl is rather confused. (I hope you are aware that I am favoring this story over "To start anew," writing it while that other one is starting to look like a stagnant puddle… oO(will have to remedy that in the… future.)

Thank you for reading. Please review


	11. part 11

Memories II

by Ola

* * *

A/N Mmm, will have to insert a bit of "poetic license" and change a few things a bit to make this work, so I apologize in advance for the few quirks that won't go according to the world of Misty. And for those of you who want either Lan or Sin chosen… I'm not sure yet, but it probably won't happen. Not everyone gets chosen in Valdemar. Oh, and about K'Treva… let's say this is way before Vanyel's time, when Valdemar and the Hawkbrothers were on rather good terms and Haven's Healers passed them some of their patients when they could not directly deal with some of them for a reason or other… if that makes sense… ?

By the way, is screwing with my little squiggly lines to separate parts of the story, so I'll try using those huge long lines (don't know if they'll show up though). Hopefully, it's still not too confusing. And now that I've finally posted after an interminable amount of time, I'll let you enjoy the story, if anyone's still left who reads it.

* * *

Part 11

Maybe she should have waited for the rain to stop. Now that the leaves above her head were not protecting her from the icy rivulets trickling down her back, she was not so sure as to the sagacity of her decision. But… the guard, and that other, scary man… they had known her. She could not stay there.

Therefore she found herself once again on the road, with only a backpack with a few necessities and the clothes on her back. But that was nothing new. She had lost track of how many days she had wondered through the country prior to her stay with Mrs. Zogriva. Needless to say, she had not been in her right mind, especially those first few days. Even now, when she tried to remember anything, it all became one fuzzy grayness.

With a sigh, the young woman glanced up toward the sky and muttered a few well placed curses. She didn't like rain.

A peal of thunder sounded somewhere close by.

No, let's change that to: she _hated_ rain.

Her stomach rumbled as if in an after echo of the roar above, but Mica did not want to eat yet. Or rather, she did, but she neither wanted to take her hands out of the relative warmth of her pockets, nor to have her piece of bread soaked before she ate more than a mouthful or two. So she plodded on, trailing her feet in misery, somewhat reveling in feeling this miserable. At least it kept her mind off the lack of clear knowledge as to where she was headed. Of course, she knew there was a town there, somewhere in front of her, but how would she be welcome there? Would she be able to find work? Had she ever had a moment in her life when she did not have to plan everything so carefully? Oh, how she wished for a carefree life, with no worries…

_And__ no rain._

She was not sure whether it was her yet another string of curses directed toward the Heavens, or if this was simply horrible bad luck, but when the flashes in her eyes finally subsided, and the overpowering ringing in her ears diminished into a dull throb, she found herself flat on her back.

And _then_ the pain started.

And the panic.

But no amount of tugging, pulling, or squirming helped to get her out from under that massive tree. It did, however, make quite clear that she was not budging from under this trap.

_No. Hell no! … _

Another tug, and a horrendous flare of fiery pain shot up her left leg. When the initial pain subsided somewhat, she craned her head as far as she could in her current position to assess the damage. Then she wished that she hadn't. A sizeable branch that diverged off from the main trunk had impaled her thigh all the way through and had her effectively pinned down. The branch itself was lodged into the earth.

_Oh god…_ Mica felt the blood literally drain from her.

That, and an ever growing headache, seemed to be the only wound. _Ha. The only one? Isn't that enough? I'm trapped in the middle of a god knows how big a forest, in the middle of a downpour, with no way to get out of here, short of cutting my leg off. No one is going to come this way. It's out of the way of any road, and no sensible person should be wandering through here. It's not hunting season yet and … oh god. Help!_

"Heeeeeelp! Help me! I need heeeeeelp!" her tears mixed with the rain running down her face. As much as she tried to squelch them, quiet sobs escaped her, to be lost in the thunder and storm above.

She had never felt so powerless. Even in all her early wonderings without memory, she could _do_ something. She had a choice. She could act. Here she was trapped like an insect speared by a pin. A tiny little bug, just calmly waiting to die from hunger and dehydration.

At the thought, she craned her head back and tried to reach her bag. She stretched her fingers as far as they would go, held her body taut, pulling at the wound until she thought she would lose consciousness. It hurt. It hurt so much, and yet, her fingers could not reach far enough. _Just a little more.__ Come on. Come ON! Please! Unng…_ her fingers dug at the water logged soil, and her thigh muscles screamed at being further torn against the rough bark. A puddle of dark blood was slowly pooling underneath her and flowing into the gouges of her finger marks. Everything was slick with rain. No purchase, nothing to hold on to for leverage. Lying on her back like she was, she knew she had absolutely no chance of escape.

At the thought, she let out one long raw scream and in her last moment of lucidity, she braced her trembling hands against the tree trunk and heaved.

Blood. Lots of blood. An atrocious pain and near blackness threatening to swallow her mind.

And thirst, despite the water raining down upon her pale face.

Thirst, dizziness, and despair.

Fingers convulsing around soggy fallen leaves.

Tears falling down like so much rain drops.

And the low keening of someone who knows no hope.

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A/N I know this was short. Please forgive me. But I didn't want to mix this scene with another one. I tried to describe what poor Lan might have been experiencing. And although I probably didn't do this scene justice, hopefully you can imagine just how horrendously bad she was feeling at the moment.

As always, please review! )


	12. part 12

Memories II

by Ola

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A/N Wow, I can't even remember the last time I updated. So I'll skip over the apologies and the promises of more rapid updates in the future, because as my life is going at the moment, I have no idea when I will have time to post the next installment of this story. But don't worry. I _can_ promise you one thing: it will get done someday. I just don't know when ) Thank you so much for anyone who's still hanging onto this story, as poorly as the updates have been coming up. I had actually, by mistake, written a large part of this chapter twice, in two different notebooks, without realizing it, then I had to mesh the two pieces together, so I hope it's not too repetitive in places. Other than that, I'll stop with the longish note and post what I have now, despite the fact that it was meant to be longer and finish more on a cliffhanger. Oh well ) Enjoy:

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Part 12

_She has lost all her memories. All her memories of us. Of me. _That thought flittered in his mind like a blind bird beating away at a window. There was no way out. She didn't know who he was. She would never know what had happened between then. And even if she again grew to love him, nothing would ever be the same.

_But_ … _the healers said they sent her to the Hawkbrothers because they were the only ones who could help. Does that mean there _is _help? Or was that just the last breath of hope?_ Sindarin suddenly snapped his head up and sped through the palace corridors, scattering a group of court ladies with an undignified squawk in his haste. But he didn't even hear their complaints and threats. He ran through the halls, finding his way through the corridors in some recesses of his childhood memories. The shouts of a guard did not register. Only a half formed idea, based on something he wasn't sure existed anymore, if ever, kept him running forward.

Despite the frequent flashes of recognition of his surroundings, Sindarin still erred around the hallways for some time before he staggered to a stop in front of the door for which he had been searching. He took the time to calm his breathing and straighten up his slumped form before giving the small door one sharp knock. No one answered, but then, he hadn't expected anyone to do so, as the door only opened up onto another hallway, that one much narrower than the grand corridors of the main palace. He closed the door behind him and plunged into the dimness before his eyes adjusted to the lack of windows. A few candles gave patches of yellow brightness, separated by darkened gaps. Despite its seeming disuse, the stone floor was swept and there was no trace of the mildewy smell often associated with the dank undergrounds of older castles. No, this was still a well kept part of the palace.

On his way, Sindarin spared a brief thought of thanks to the older brother he had brushed off so quickly not a candlemark ago. It had been Jehffary who had chased him around the palace halls for a reason now forgotten, and unwittingly led the young Sindarin to hide behind that very same door he had just entered. His childish curiosity had taken care of the rest.

Now, the young guard just prayed that the snatches of conversations he always barely listened to at family reunions would prove true. Otherwise, there would be a lot of explaining to do to the person he would find at the end of this tunnel; explaining that would take too much time.

The hall suddenly ended at another door, an exact copy of the first, and once again, Sindarin knocked, this time waiting for an answer, no matter his growing apprehension, fatigue and restlessness. Time slowed down to a crawl before the door opened, with no sound of footsteps to herald someone's arrival. But once he stepped past the threshold and into a brightly lit antechamber, the person closed the door and turned around… only to stare at him.

"Kelleheri?" The surprise of hearing someone calling him that name was just as great as the fact that the young woman facing him knew who he was.

"…Yes?"

"Ha, so it _is_ you!"

"Err… yes?" Was he missing something? The woman obviously thought so, for she flashed him a bright smile and finally introduced herself as "Marillin DeVillier."

_Oh.._

He blinked a few times then…

_Ooooohh!_ That _Marillin!_

Gods above, was the whole palace staffed by his extended family? Not that he minded. Overly much. The strawberry blond hair should have tipped him up. The lighter color of red ran in her family. Well, it only showed how much out of the social life of the palace he was. Not that he would be remedying it any time soon.

"I need help."

"I'd say so. You look like crap honey," her chuckle accompanied the soft hand that patted his shoulder and directed him toward a seat on a wide bench lining the far wall. Sitting under the only shelf, laden with a book or three, and feeling just as empty inside as this small room, Sindarin tried to explain himself.

"No no… I mean… the…" the words to describe what exactly what he was looking for kept eluding him. No need to show her he was ignorant as well as at the end of his energy reserves. It had already been a surprise that she had recognized him at all, what with his present appearance. He breathed in deeply, once, twice, to calm his whirling mind.

"The portal. Does it exist? Is it still working?" His words didn't have the effect he had anticipated. Well, he hadn't really known what exactly to hope for, but it certainly wasn't the knitted brows and stubborn frown.

"Does it?" he prodded, needing to know the answer, no matter the outcome. Marillin looked at him for a long while before finally answering with a question of her own.

"Why do you want to know?"

_Ah, so it does exist after all… now, about whether to lose the time to tell her the whole story, or keep it short and cross my fingers that she won't be too curious. But…_-his eyes once again took note of the reddish coloring of her hair, and he sighed in resignation- _she's a DeVillier. Of _course _she'll ask all the questions she damn well wants. Especially since she knows I have no choice but to answer them._

Exactly. He had no choice. Thus he recounted the happenings of the past few years, keeping them as abridged as possible. Only the information necessary to keep the story on its feet. He listened to his own words with a strange sense of detachment, barely perceiving that this story was his past. It sounded foreign. Emotionless. As his mouth worked, his tired mind followed this thought, trivial though it was. he could just as well have stared at the wall. As tired as he was, it didn't really matter what his thoughts were, as long as hic actions remained pointed toward his goal. No, wait… he needed clear thoughts to commend those actions. He needed… well, he needed sleep and food, but that would just have to wait for a little while longer, wouldn't it? _Damn right it would. And it will!_ Because right now, convincing Marillin was the most important goal. And the longer he talked, the wider her eyes grew, although she kept quiet and did not interrupt him until he sighed at the end of his narration and asked:

"So is there any hope in this entreaty, or am I grasping at straw?" Weariness was tightening its hold on the poor guard. Hold much longer would he need to look? To search?

…_I lasted a year without her, always wondering, always looking at every woman I saw, in the hopes of it being her. And I cannot fight for another day?_ His fist clenched into a ball and shook with strain. His whole body shook. In anger at his impotence and in pain for the last dredges of his energy inexorably leaving him. Did it matter that his eyesight would not focus properly anymore? Did it matter that he felt nauseous and sick, not even mentioning saddle-sore and exceedingly hungry? …Did it matter that his heart hurt, in the simplest sense of the word? It hurt. It hurt so damn much that nothing else mattered. And so Marillin's next words made him exhale a wavery breath he had not even realized he was holding.

"It does exist… and I am its guardian." However, before Sindarin could even stand from his seat, she stopped him with her hand.

"_But_! I cannot allow you to pass right now."

… and all breath seemed to escape him, to leave him gasping and unable to think for lack of air.

"I will let you through, but I cannot allow you to pass right now," she repeated as if to make sure he had really understood her. And all he could ask in return was a whispered "why?"

A small smile crossed the young woman's lips as a stray memory brushed her mind. "You should have paid attention to your lessons little boy." But the smile soon disappeared, to be replaced by what seemed like a strange mix of concern and pity. "A gate is a magical portal. Yes, it draws energy from the node under the palace, which anchors it to this room, this time and space, and yes, it is similarly anchored at its destination place, but there is nothing in between. No real _place_ to anchor all the points in between, and nothing from which to draw the required energy to keep you on the path. That is, except for the energy that comes from you. The traveler. And excuse me for being so blunt, but you look worse than what comes out of a horse's ass, and you certainly are not in any way, shape, or form ready to travel through a gate. Because the one thing you really need to know is that in your state, once you enter the gate and the void in between, once it sucks you dry of all your energy, there is no way to bring you back. You will be left as a floating soul in the middle of nothingness. Forever. _Forever_ Kel. Are you understanding what I am telling you?"

If he wasn't already doing so from weariness, he would have slumped on his seat from the defeat he was feeling. Damn magic. As his heart tugged painfully toward Lan, his stomach reminded him in no uncertain way that it needed food. _Now!_ But it seemed that it was Marillin who heard its distressed call, and not Sindarin, for she was the one to bring him a platter of cheese and fruit, without even him noticing her short absence.

"Here you go. It's all I have at the moment. I called a page for a proper dinner for you, but for the moment you can start up on that until the rest arrives." She nudges his shoulder and pointed to the food. "Come on Kellan. … I will allow you to cross that much faster if you eat," she finally added when he would not respond. And just as she thought, that last sentence did bring a reaction out of him, although not the one she expected.

"I'm not that hungry. I would prefer to get this over with and see Lan as soon as possible."

Although that was not entirely true –the first part quite likely flying against the wind- he could not, _could not_ wait longer when he knew he was so close to the end. He really could have cared less that his body longed for a bit of rest and food, and that his stomach had probably shrunk to half its size by now, and has been eaten by its own juices, or that his shoes had melted onto his feet. He could walk across that portal. He had enough energy. Damn right he had enough! As long as he was conscious he would have enough. He w…

"Kellan!" The guard was brought back to the present by a rough shake on his shoulders. When his eyesight stopped spinning, he was left to stare at a very angry young woman, a woman about to stick a large piece of bread and cheese into his mouth.

"I don't think you realize exactly what I just told you, you little brat." Perhaps that last sally was a bigger affront that the one made upon his intelligence. He knew exactly what she had told him, thank you very much, although she certainly didn't seem to think so.

"Let me put it another way then: I am the only one here with the knowledge to get you through that gate. If you don't eat, I won't let you through. Simple?"

despite the snarl that threatened to escape him, he simply schooled himself and nodded, while finally taking the proffered bit of food and stuffing it into his mouth to keep from adding any other comment. Oh how he wished to stop her from talking so much and just get on with things! Why was she making such a fuss out of it? All right. He needed energy. So he was getting it! With that, he took another mouthful, packing as much food into his mouth as he could and chewing methodically. Being a guard did have its advantages at times: he kept his ideas of what he thought about this particular circumstance quiet and fumed in silence.

After taking another platter from a young boy who had just appeared at the door, she placing the food by Sindarin's side, she sat back on her chair and watched him eat. Whenever he so much as slowed down in his mastication, she sent an expressive "look" his way, and prodded him auite noticeably to continue eating. Everything. When he swallowed the last grape from the first platter and started on the second, the young DeVillier nodded approvingly and resumed talking. "As I said, if for an unforeseen circumstance, a human being is completely drained of his life force while still in between two gates, he will never come out. And don't give me that superior look of yours. I _has_ happened before. The few such accidents are very well documented. So unless you wish to kill yourself, keep munching. K'Vala Vale is quite a way off. our fastest companion won't reach the Hawkbrothers you wish to visit in under ten days. To travel such a distance by gate, you need energy Kellan, energy that you seriously seem to be lacking." Her gaze settled in him once again; obviously, the food wasn't disappearing from his tray fast enough. Was he supposed to just inhale it? His stomach had become unused to such massive quantities of nourishment all at one time. Getting sick to his stomach really wouldn't help him right now.

"What do we do now?" he finally asked between mouthful, now slower and smaller.

"We wait." The girl nodded to emphasize her point, brushing off his protest.

"I can't wait Marillin!"

"You can and you will," she replied calmly, in complete contrast to sindarin.

"Listen Marillin, I know I look awful. I've been told that today more times that I care to remember. But please believe me when it tell you that it is due to psychological reasons and not physical ones. I need to see Lan. I… I can't… wait here, knowing she's so closed to me now. I have been looking for her for so long now that I'm going crazy. Waiting is not going to help me Marillin. Please. You have to understand this." The silence left after his words rang in his ears. He had forgotten how quiet the palace underground could be. Those past two years had taken him away from even the remote castle-life of his father's court. And half of that time was spent in anguish and clinging to a sliver of hope he knew he should abandon. It only served to tighten the hands of despair and depression around his neck… and yet, he had never given up. He had thought about his love everyday of that past year, and agonized over the fact that it grew dimmer with the passing of the months. He could no longer remember the feel of her arms around him, or the taste of her skin. He cried himself to sleep at night over those fading memories and yet they kept on slipping away, to wake him up in the morning, exhausted, and in anger. Would it be so much to ask to just let it all end? Was he lacking strength to go through with this? Would his body decide to simply quit? He had arrived to the palace nearly comatose, barely hanging onto his horse. Sleep had beckoned to him in the guard's cell, with no avail. The only positive aspect of this day was the food that Marillin had shoved at him, and even this he could barely force down his tight throat. Any more and his stomach would violently rebel. It really had gotten much smaller.

He suddenly felt like a little boy again, all alone in the darkness of his father's great hall, scared out of his mind at the impenetrable darkness surrounding him, and yet unable to uncurl from his protective crouch and run to the safety and warmth of his own room. He shivered at the memory as it played tricks with his mind. Th epresent blurred with the past into one continuum that left him lost in this strange time frame.

"Eat a little more Kellan, and I'll open the gate the gat for you honey." Marillin's soft voice merged with his mother's. He had been seven when she had passed into the Heavens. Her face was now but a soft blur of blond curls and the ghost of a clear laugh. And he was scared, so scared that Lan's memory too, would fade away to leave nothing but soft, blurry outlines. He forced another little piece of bread passed his now choked throat.

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	13. part 13

Memories II

by Ola

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A/N Almost a year late. Sorry. If anybody still reads it, then enjoy ) (by the way, since I have somewhat forgotten the details of the past twelve chapters, I do hope that there will be no jarring errors. If you find anything amiss, let me know! Thanks!)

Ooh, I just realized! It's chapter 13, for Friday the 13th. Haha. Good luck to everybody! Mine has been holding out well so far (although there's still half of the day left )

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Part 13

Sindarin sat on his bench by the far wall. His fingers scraped the edge of the wood, clenching and opening in nervous anticipation, the only outward sign of his slipping control. The food he had succeeded in swallowing was trying to make a come back into the world, if the violent flips of his stomach were a clue. A quick glance at the platter of food that he had pushed away revealed that he had not eaten as much as he had thought he had. It was a wonder that Marillin had finally conceded defeat and started on the magical opening of the gate. Or perhaps he really did look better than he felt, despite everybody's saying of the contrary. But that was not of importance at the moment. No. Right now, all his attention was trained on a stone wall that had been blank a few minutes ago, and that was now starting to glow a pale violet light. The light formed an arch that grew from the floor, in what appeared to be just another doorway, which surprised him. He hadn't thought a gate would actually _look_ like a door, although why he had thought it, he didn't know. But that too was irrelevant. The glow was intensifying, now clearly delineating a doorway. There were also signs that slithered across the top arch to form words, but they seemed to dance and change as he looked at them, in patterns he could not read, and after a brief moment, he had to look away. He instead focused his gaze on the young woman who stood before the glowing apparition. Her arms were raised before her, palms out toward the new arch, lips moving but the words too softly spoken to make meaning of them. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed at peace with herself. Her tranquility somewhat decreased his own nerves, but not enough for him to let go of the bench. If he did, then he would have jumped up and paced around the room. Most probably not good for Marillin's concentration. As hard as it was to sit still and wait while she did all the work, he preferred not to have her redo everything because of an error he might have led her to cause. And thus he sat on that bench as if it was a life saving raft in the middle of an ocean, right at home with that feeling, what with the exhaustion dragging at his eyelids, and the roiling of his stomach.

It seemed much too long before Marillin finally lowered her arms and took a step back from her work. Sindarin held his breath, not daring to think the gate complete until she turned toward him with a smile and beckoned for him to rise.

"It's done. Get your bag."

_Oh_. He had almost forgotten about the saddle bag he had carelessly dropped under the bench upon his arrival. Actually, he was quite surprised that he had not managed to leave it somewhere in his haste and befuddlement. His mind, most decidedly, was not up to its usual action. But that would soon end. The exhaustion and that ever-present pain deep in his heart. He had found Lan. Finally. All hope was not lost. He just had to step through the glowing arch, and take her in his arms, and everything would be alright. She would remember him again. She would remember _them._ She just had to.

The young guard stood up and drew a ragged breath. Now that the time had finally come for action, doubts began to worm into his tired mind. What if it _didn't_ work? No, he wouldn't think of it. It _would_ work. He would make it work. For his Lan. It had already been too long. This interminable search, the loss of hope, then it's sudden gain. It was just too much for his tattered nerves. It all had to end soon, for the better or worse. Although he wasn't sure he could deal with the "worse."

And before Marillin could say anything, to advise or warn, he stepped toward the glowing wall, closed his eyes, and marched right through the arch, amazed that he did not hit solid stone. However, the sudden cold that touched his fingers and toes and quickly crawled up his limbs did snap him out of his daze. He opened his eyes, only to find an impenetrable darkness surrounding him. Had Marillin said anything about this? Was he supposed to head in a certain direction? Where was he? What _was_ this strange place? As the unnatural chill invaded his very bones and left him numb, he began to panic. The lack of knowledge about what was supposed to be happening knotted his stomach and again tried to force out the little food he had ingested. Perhaps he should have at least listened to what the young woman had to say before he had so rashly rushed into the unknown.

He turned around, but the violet arch was gone. No glowing light, no palace, no Marillin. Nothing but blackness everywhere he looked. And that cold now seeped into his heart, and he gripped his chest as a very real pain clawed at him. Slowly, his knees wobbled, and he sank to the floor, noticing without too much concern that there really was no floor there. Only more impenetrable darkness. So, was this what Marillin had warned him about? Was this the energy leaving his body? _But…_ _I don't want to stay here. _His befuddled mind told him. And through the fog that had started to gather there, he agreed with himself. Yes, he had to be somewhere. He had to find someone. Lan. Just the thought of her somewhat cleared his head. But… he was just so tired. Maybe if he rested just for a little while… his journey would then be less arduous. Did he even know where he was headed in this darkness? But as the exhaustion tugged at his wearied mind and body, a nagging thought kept him from succumbing to the tantalizing idea of just letting go and falling into unconsciousness. A thought about gates and voids… and something having to do with "forever," a thought that made his blood run cold, and not from the chill of the darkness.

Suddenly, he shivered, and the fingers of ice somewhat lifted off of him. The fog dispersed and one thought stood out plainly against all others: he had to find Lan. He clung to that idea with the remains of his slipping energy. It was the only thing left for him to do. With some effort, he staggered back to his feet and took a few steps forward. Just as before, the darkness made it impossible to determine the direction of his travel, if he _had_ a direction to go in the first place. He heaved a sigh, and stopped, and just concentrated on where he wanted to go. _Where Lan is. I want to go there. _In his mind, he saw her short cropped hair, and remembered their slightly rough structure under his fingers. He saw her bright green eyes laughing at him, and felt her hand slip into his. Yes, he would find her this time. He would run his fingers through her hair again, he would look into her eyes again, he would hear her laugh… for she was the only thing he wanted in this world.

_And I promised. I promised you I would go to the end of the world to find you._

He wasn't really sure what happened next, whether it was something he did, or something he thought. Or maybe something he felt. For he definitely felt the painful tug that twisted his belly, from up in his throat right down to the bottom of his innards. Not a pleasant sensation in the least.

That was the moment he noticed that the low moan that escaped him from this terrible pain made no sound in this vast emptiness. There _was_ no sound.

That was the moment he noticed that whatever equilibrium he had had was lost, and he was tilting dangerously to the side, and then falling, although there was no ground to meet him.

But then, there _was_ a ground, solidly thumping into his side, as his chin grazed a wet, springy soil.

And there _was_ noise. A lot of it, suddenly assaulting his ears, but he couldn't move his weary arms to block it off.

And then, from somewhere above him, someone ask "who are you?" and as he blinked his eyes open in shock, he was met by the tip of a spear.

But by then, he had sunk back into darkness, this time into the blissful void of unconsciousness.

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A/N Next time (whenever that will be): I think a short part with sindarin's point of view, a bit about where he is, and _then_ lan's back with _her_ pov.

As always, please review to tell me what you think. Advice and constructive criticism is always appreciated! )


	14. part 14

Memories II

by Ola

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A/N Urrgg, so hard to get back into gear without re-reading the whole story. I _will_ finish this, damn it! exhales sorry 'bout that. Life got in the way of writing. Or maybe I was attacked by a bout of laziness. Most probably both. But now that I have another blank sheet in front of me, I'll write a bit more. And I wish to thank the people who have stuck with this story and reviewed. It greatly helped with the motivation wink. So here's a bit of Sindarin's story. (next up will either be Lan's turn, or half and half. Although I'm thinking of adding a dramatic scene in there ) Until then, review and Enjoy!

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Part 14

"Who are you you you you?" The echo batted away at Sindarin's mind like a butterfly against the inside of a glass jar. Slowly, very slowly, feeling came back into his body, but his mind shied away from any deep thoughts; and anyway, it swam too much for any coherent thoughts. Thus, he just lay there, his mind drifting, buoyed by a current of pleasant warm air that ruffled the little hairs on his arms. Ah, yes, he was lying down. Something soft and springy met his shoulder blades as he tried a wriggle and for a while he didn't make any more moves. A deep weariness tugged at him, as if someone had sprawled on him to keep him from moving. Or maybe he was just tired. Why? His mind refused to go down that particular pathway and he didn't push it. He really was too exhausted to deal with his recalcitrant head at the moment.

He may have drifted back into sleep, or unconsciousness, he wasn't sure, but the quality of the air seemed to have changed slightly since the last time he had been awake. It had become slightly cooler. Not enough so to be uncomfortable, but enough to jar his mind and to remind him of an altogether different sort of cold that had recently seeped into his limbs, passing effortlessly through skin and muscles, right into his bones and heart. With a force that left him breathless, his memories all rushed back at him, and he sat up in bed with a half choked gasp that had him coughing and squeezing his ribs to keep them from hurting so much. His head whirled with the sudden movement, and the whole world was thrown off kilter.

The palace, Marillin, the gate, the void, the coldness. And Lan. Where was Lan? She was supposed to be here! Where is she?

"Lan." His first attempt at words came out as a painful croak, barely audible. It hurt to talk, but it was no impediment to him. He tried again and again, each time his little cry becoming a little louder, until it sounded like a proper word. All the while, he had been swinging his legs to the side of the bed and unsuccessfully trying to get up.

Ah, damn it, what was wrong with him? Had he caught the plague, to feel such weakness? His lungs burned impossibly, and he longed for a sip of cool water. No, make that a whole barrel of it. Finally, he fought off the soft blankets and rushed to his feet, only to sway alarmingly and crash headlong into the wooden floor. That hurt. Just as much as did his wounded pride at feeling so week and ineffective. How was he to rescue his Lan if he couldn't even stand up?

With a deep breath through teeth clenched with the frustration of impotence that served as much to get some much needed air back into his abused lungs as to try and relax, the young guard rolled onto his back and finally took stoke of where he was. From his prone position, he saw a mound of pale, colored blankets on a low wooden dais which he assumed was the bed from which he had just fallen. He tentatively reached his hand toward the corner of a green one that trailed down on the floor due to his hasty –and unsuccessful- attempt at escape. It was remarkably soft; definitely his bed then. A slight glance to the side revealed … well, his mind couldn't quite grasp the concept of green leaves fluttering in such patterns, like a waterfall of green, so he decided that it must be another cloth, painted or stitched with leaves. It hung over what may have been a doorway. So he was in a room. And he could seemingly leave whenever he wanted to, since there was no discernible physical door blocking his leave. A soft sigh escaped him, and he was surprised that he had not been previously aware of how much his new environment –and the possible prospect of subsequent imprisonment- had alarmed him. His mind really must have been quite muddled if he could not even realize his own thoughts and feelings. But there were just so many of those latter ones that he didn't even want to adventure near them, for to start sifting through them, he would open the whole gate and be flooded with memories and repressed emotions. And right now, he didn't have time for that.

He rolled his head to his other side to continue his inspection. There was a wall there, made of clean, light colored wooden planks, and a few long shelves curving along its length. They held a few books, some sort of box, a green vase with a single yellow flower, and a stack of folded cloth. And then, the wall just…ended, and was replaced by what he could only think of as bark. Tree bark.

And during his whole examination, he couldn't stop the feeling of swaying. He wasn't sure whether it was him or the ceiling, or the whole room. Not that it mattered much. He must have hit his head pretty badly not so long ago, or he wouldn't feel so nauseous.

But… that tree bark was tingling a memory at the back of his head. Where had he heard of rooms with tree bark? When the right thought finally came to him, he would have hit himself on the head if he wasn't already lying on the floor with a pounding headache. The Hawkbrothers, of course. He _had_ been going to see them after all. Dear goddess, he really was a befuddled idiot. Well, at least now the swaying made sense. They lived in tree houses. And that's where he was. With a rather impressive roll of his eyes at his own lack of mental capacity, Sindarin rolled himself onto his side, and ignoring the stitch right below his ribs, got as far as his hands and knees before he had to pause for breath. _It must be the swaying of the tree. It's not possible for me to feel so week, damn it_. His memories of the passage between Valdemar's capital and the Hawkbrother's forest were rather vague, and he didn't mind that too much. If possible he would prefer not to dwell on the void in between. But that also meant that he wasn't sure what had happened to him there, and why he was so damn weak. He was an accomplished guard, for haven's sake. He was physically strong enough to climb over mountains and fight with groups of bandits. And he couldn't even stand up on his own two feet? That was laughable. Not to mention that at the back of his head, the memory that blinked with warm light, the memory of Lan, propelled him ever forward to find her. And how was he supposed to do that by sitting on the floor?

With an angry growl at himself, he lunged upright in one heave, staggered backwards a few step under his momentum, and tottered for a few precious moments before his legs gave out again. At least, the second time he hit the floor he was moderately prepared for it. It still hurt quite a bit, as his elbow connected with the wood. This was definitely not his day. Someone else thought just as much, for Sindarin heard from behind him an:

"Are you quite finished?" There was no need to add 'making a fool of yourself' to that sentence. That was quite well implied in the tone of voice. But the fact that there _was_ someone there in the first place and that the guard's senses were so dulled as to have been unaware of it was quite more frightening than the mere prospect of being laughed at.

With a quick jerk of the head that left him reeling, he looked behind his shoulder at, well, a Hawkbrother. There really was no mistaking the man for anyone else, what with the shoulder length hair dyed with a very realistic leaf pattern, the high, defined cheekbones, and the strange, form fitting clothing. Not to mention the little smirk that played on the stranger's lips. But the Hawkbrother didn't seem to be waiting for a response from Sindarin. He just stood up with a fluidity that made the guard envious and extended a hand to help him up. With the help, the young Valdemaran was able to sit back down on the bed, exhausted, but with no more unnecessary bruises. While he was catching up his breath –and thinking of which question to ask first- he felt compelled to thank his guest. At that, the Hawkbrother laughed.

"I am called Moonwind, and you are welcome friend, although I know you not, nor your story. Please enlighten me for I am a curious man." All that was said with that same little knowing smile. Obviously, the man knew more than he let on, but Sindarin was past trying to play mind games with his host. He wanted answers, and the quicker he responded to what was asked of him, the faster he would know what _he_ wanted as well. And he was just too damn tired to think overly much anyway. So his story was brief, with the usual entrety that now seemed to end all his conversations:

"Where is Lan? I was told she was brought here for healing. Please help me find her."

At this, Moonwind sobered visibly and lost all his sunny disposition. This sudden change in expression helped clarify why he was called after the cool night elements instead of the exuberant ones of the day.

"I am afraid seeing her now would be a mistake." Sindarin's mouth opened up, but no sound came out. He had traveled through the countryside after her, tracked her to the capital, and followed her through a gate that almost robbed him of his life force. And now, a mere few minutes away from her, he was banned from finally taking her in his arms?

"The isolation need not be permanent my friend. Nevertheless, as you mentioned, she _is_ here to heal, and to do so, she cannot perceive you. To do so would be dangerous for her current mental health, and precipitate her frail constitution into painful turbulence. It would either undo the work we had helped her start toward recovery, or hurry the process into a blinding and quite unnecessary pain."

"She is not the frail damsel you paint her to be," the guard gritted out, his emotions too tender to withhold at such a preposterous notion. His Lan had been strong enough to leave her family and reach for her goal. She had weathered the highs and lows of the guards' training camp. She had even survived –thank goddess- the landslide that everyone had thought fatal. She was _anything_ but frail.

"I did not mean to cause you grief by the phrasing of my declaration. I mainly wished to protect her from further anguish. She is a strong woman, and will health. In time. But that is what she need, time, and despite our clan's exceptional healers, there are things only the body itself can do. We understand your plight and you are a free guest here to walk as you wish, but if you love that woman as you said you do, I ask of you not to seek her out." And with those final words, the Hawkbrother quietly left the room to leave a stunned Sindarin contemplating his choices: to stew restlessly in the shadows and allow Lan the time to heal, or to fling all cautions to the wind and find her, when he was so close to his goal. Ah, the torment of indecision. It made his head and heart hurt.


End file.
